every answer deserves to raise more questions

what do i think when i write?
i write the things i want to say but can't find the words for
i write the words when they come-pouring out of my mind
tumbling over each other and tripping on too-big feet
too fast for my tongue to touch
that’s when my fingers try to catch up with the flood
of little words trying to say big ideas
of finger painting picasso and spraying dali on a brick wall
that’s when i try to show anybody who’s willing to read
one image, one scene that is me
and i write because there’s a pain that I’m addicted to
a poignant sting that lets me know i’m alive
that there’s something out there worth chasing
that there’s a dream for me to catch
and i write because there’s nothing left but writing
because everyone i touch i seem to burn
but the paper won’t catch fire
and i write because my skin’s been torn off
and i don’t know how my heart keeps beating
but it does, and it tells me what to say
and i write because no one can touch me
i write because there’s no one for me to touch
but somehow writing is tossing out part of myself
so that somewhere someone can uncork me
and my words will be there
and i write
because there are words
and there is paper
and that’s all i need
and sometimes
that’s all i am