The Book I Talk To (Poetry)

This is the book I
talk to like a friend
it has no option
but listen to me
these words without end

end up on the page
all scrawled and scratched through
less paper than flesh
small bursts of ink-splash
an odd ear to chew

less memoir than muse
stray thoughts wander in
the chat written down
one-sided I know
reads randomly thin

What’s logic? What’s sense?
I can’t understand
the voice in my head
sends messages that
tie knots in my hand

This gossiping pen
gives secrets away
the book’s blabbermouth
quotes everything I
confided today