Trust In The Release

I have too much to think about and even more to drink about.
My thoughts have become overwhelming and crushing as I attempt to rush in.
And the only thing that saves me now is the movement of my pen.
It saves me from the crazy that I have hidden inside and the lazy that I wear as a facade.
It prevents me from drowning in my own thoughts and always knows when I have been caught.
It reminds me that I need to own the feelings and emotions that are building and churning, and crushing and burning.
It soothes the wounds that are self-inflicted and reminds me to stop my bitching.
It allows a release for the secrets I like to keep.
It reminds me of a lust I once had for life and the fact that not everything is characterized by strife.
It lacks judgement and refuses to comment on the flaws I see so obviously within me.
It accepts and never rejects the person I have become and my quest to no longer feel numb.

But I question its influence and the gift it attempts to produce.
I question if it is misguiding me during my quest to be free.
I wonder if it has motives of its own and I wonder if I should actually just pick up my phone.
I am uncertain if I always needed this pen and if it will allow me to put my best foot in.
I accuse it of being just another distraction and one that lacks progressive action.
I doubt that this will all work out.
But for now I place my trust in the one object that can not return it,
And I know that I will never be burned by it.
I know that it will do as I say,
But I do not know what I want to say.
I allow it to take control of my life,
And I know that without it there would be no life.
It is the unassuming partner I have always wanted,
But I never knew what I actually wanted.
It makes me question myself,
And assure myself,
And want to never betray my true self,
Because that is all it knows itself.