Muscle Poems

There has been so much going on in my life, Journal, that I rather not write. You, my journal, is full of to do lists. I rather I come to you. Well, I’ll tell you I’ve decided to listen to my therapist more openly. That’s probably why I have avoided you unless to peer at you from the couch as you patiently were warm on the table. She brought up things that startle me into the recognition that I have certain things I must be aware of for the rest of my life. Like for the rest of my life I want to forget it. Well, this is my hell turned up high in my head. The empty page an open book.