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I’ll throw up if I
hear myself think that again.

I’ll throw up if I
long for what I can’t have again.

I’ll throw up if I
can’t do that or go there.

I’ll throw up if I
can’t have yadayadayada.

I’ll throw up if I
can’t be yadayadayada.

If you knew me,
you’d know it isn’t true.

I wouldn’t throw up,
I wouldn’t break things,
I wouldn’t throw things,
I wouldn’t strike, smack,
or slam the door.

The longings remain, the wants
remain, all the stuff remains
tormenting me to death!

So this is better, right? Better
than keeping it bottled up
inside, right?

I don’t believe it! I haven’t
smoked since 1976 and I just
dreamed of a fine Cazedores
cigar. Is this pressure or what?

Okay. I’m done.

I think I just had my first (and
hope my last) poetry tantrum

I feel better; don’t you?

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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