[Step 1: Admission]
Hi, My name is Yolanda.
I’m a write-a-holic.
I can’t control it, can’t restrain
the urge to write.
I need help.
I want my life back.
[Step Two: Commitment]
I write stories or poems on fast food napkins,
with toothpicks, using tomato sauce for ink.
I write ideas for future blog posts
on my ashy arms and legs. When I run out of space,
I use my shoes.
I make motions
similar to Michael Jackson’s moonwalk
when I need to erase.
I make up stories
while imagining myself making love to my crush.
That bitch’s got a man now. But who needs her?
She was suffocating my creativity, anyway.
I await comments after posts
like an addict, hands trembling,
head shaking in disbelief.
Not another bout with rejection!
I’m happy to be here.
No I’m not.
I live for revision.
Instead of sex, I have words.
I eat feedback.
[Step 3: Satisfaction]
As a recovering write-a-holic,
admitting my problem
has provided a much needed emotional release.
Joining this support group has
taught me to reconcile my past
and move forward.
(Excuse me, you with the blue t-shirt,
are you going to throw away that paper cup?
That’s good paper!)
by King Yobho…