I write to blow off steam. Not so much “journaling,” but jotting down random thoughts as they stack up. I do this as much to get them out of my head as for creativity’s sake. Sometimes the jottings take the form of poems. I just go with it, so much so that I’ve even developed a handle for such outbursts: theratry. Part therapy, part poetry, not always making sense but still resulting in a short burst of internal satisfaction for me, if not for the reader.

I found this one from a few years ago. I might have even posted it on Facebook. Summed up the moment then, as it does now…

I RESERVE HOPE

I still have this dream 

That I’ll burst on the scene

A rock star who can’t be contained —

An old man, I can’t

And I know that I shan’t 

But it keeps me from going insane.