Today again
I typed
on my Underwood
toughts that
can't be shared

I write
I read
I burn

I move the ashes around
to see if any words
has survived

Only some letters
this time

I like what I write
How raw, how simple
There is a quality
a different energy

I surprise myself
correcting my text
even if I am
to burn it
a few minutes later

I work trough
self-censoring
trying to make
the words
less offending
but why?
Let it loose
let if flow

A play I wrote
in college
My teacher
asking me to remove
a few lines

It's liberating
and healing

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