Scratching the Itch

There’s an itch I can’t scratch.

I’m actually starting to think it’s inside my brain.

You know that type of itch that your fingers can’t reach well enough to make it go away.

To be perfectly honest, I think it’s because I’m going insane.

My emotions are chaotic.

It gets so intense so I write all these thoughts that flood my brain, that’s the only time I feel like the itch is starting to go away

The thing is, every day is comes back to me, burning and begging for me to take away the strain.

The strain has become a pressure that moves down to my chest. I sometimes think I’m having a heart attack.

Then the words start to flow and I feel I’m okay. The itching begins to subside. My mind becomes open and I finally feel alive.

You could almost call it a high.

But I don’t like that word because of my past. You see, addiction use to hold me firmly in its grasp, it turned me into someone that I didn’t even know.

So to call it a high is almost like calling myself a joke. This time the joke isn’t funny.

There is no punch line.

All it ever does is make me want to poke at the itch in my brain that just won’t go away.

Like I said, I am going insane.

So at the end of the night, when the words come out just right, I start to feel normal, I start to feel whole.

But when the morning comes back around I once again start to Jones.

I Jones to scratch the itch that makes me tick.

At least, this time, I’m not harming myself. I’m probably improving upon myself.

So the itch that I hate has become something I love.

A blessing that doesn’t make sense but at this moment in time I am feeling content.