Fumbling my way through
this fog of creativity
without my comfy literary devices
to keep brain locked me company
Self doubt now dominates
Can poetry even be effective
without sleight of hand
literary trickery?
Stripped of all standard
clever deceptions
I no longer have any protection
from the exposed truths
exploding through
And yet...
There is a sense
of orgasmic liberation
when we lower our shields
and let others in
to share what we feel
At least temporarily
til suffocating trepidations
roll back
to cloud us in again
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