Jai Bankson Poet I do not know?

''The Habit''

Like a junkie,this habit I must feed
                           Searching,longing-for the next fix;where shall it lead?
                                  The soundtrack to my life:A sonnet to my death
                       With each passing letter,I appreciate each and every breath

                          Why is my smile not true,How can they not see it is so fake?
             Almost to much for my heart to take. Inside all I hear are their screams and shouts
                                    most are not mine and this I don't understand?   
                         Though I've given up control-this has to be part of his plan
            Why do I feel their pain,hear their deepest,darkest secrets that they would dare not share:
                                  At times it is a blessing but mostly so unfair.
                   Maybe he gives that to me too feed the habit,so detox can not be
                 Yet in still I have the sweats,shakes,delusions and I'm not sure what I see.
            
                                             But my habit is fed and fed well
                        Sometimes my poison is Heaven-Sometimes my poison is Hell
                             My muse is gone and my habit I feel creeping up my spine
                                  and all I hear from home is your doing great;just fine.
         If they only knew what it would take to make my hand to stop,it would have to be broken
                          then too be ambidextrous for the painted word must be spoken.
               This is my habit-This is my drug,emotions upon my shoulders ,I dare not to shrug.
                         I try to feed my habit and tonight it has been fed well to the top.
                                  My hand simply can't quit,it knows not when nor how to stop!

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Shaunda Lindsay March 21, 2016 at 8:22 PM You and your father are Empaths? I am an Empath (one who empathizes) thru trial and tribulation. I became an empath as a child because If I didn't get my fathers moods correctly , it could be very bad for myself and siblings. It was my survival method. It is what saves me and ruins me at the same time.. I knew you were talking about deeper things than you were writing..It's our thing, the ability to empathize with others by recognizing body language, facial expressions. hello brother..

Shaunda Lindsay March 21, 2016 at 3:53 PM "Why do I feel their pain,hear their deepest,darkest secrets that they would dare not share: At times it is a blessing but mostly so unfair." Empathy for others is my habit.. I feel others pain so immensely it could almost break me. I draw upon my inner strength and I welcome their pain, for if we don't feel their pain, how can we ever be of help? You have a very open heart which comes out in your words. It's a beautiful thing to read.

Poet Destroyer A March 15, 2016 at 12:00 AM Jai, Ha, that makes me a super junkie. to live a life with and with a muse at times. I like how you paint a dark wall when the muse is gone. I'm guessing that's your habit having an Out Cry... awesome poem. LOVE LINDA Jai Bankson March 21, 2016 at 5:13 PM Rarely any detox--Thank you---I know I'm late but I was wearing green socks. Take Care: Justin

Richard Lamoureux March 14, 2016 at 8:31 AM When you write as well as this, there is no reason to stop. I am adding you to my favorite poets. Jai Bankson March 21, 2016 at 4:59 PM I was so worried about this because I just started typing,no re write in sight, and was falling asleep on the keys.no joke.don't know why I didn't hit save and sleep.woke up,read it and thanked God..Happy ''mistakes''

Winged Warrior March 14, 2016 at 7:40 AM A heart felt write my friend...may a thousand Angels descend and comfort you...we may now call upon them...for Mother Earth along with the solar system has entered the Christ consciousness...god bless...your friend...^WW^ Jai Bankson March 21, 2016 at 4:34 PM Thanks