An outlet. All I need is an outlet. To get it all out, out, out. So I can shout, shout, shout.
Shout that I’m worth it, not useless
That I can get something, anything done
Because I can
I can
I know I can
It’s just a matter of happening
Because I can
I can
I know I can
I’ve just got to do it
If I can write a story, if I can translate a piece, if I can draw or read the right things
But its all an if
And ifs dont make dreams come true
Ifs dont truly promise anything, anything at all
So here I am
Her I am
Feeling guilty and useless and-no no no
I don’t like the self pity and I disagree with it
I also hate how I keep insisting I am the problem
But I am
So what
So what so what so
I must do somethough though
Something to vent and let it out
So write
                   Or draw
Do something as long as its something or even nothing is fine
Please calm down
Can I though?
And outlet, I need an outlet,
And now we’ve come full circle
                 Back to poetry

Is it sweet
yet like a scorpion tail
stings?
Do you really remember
Not to sink but swim?
Warm
crimson casualties cascade
delicately down
a cupid’s bow
row row row
yourself in my boat
gently down
this fatalistic dream.

can't get out of the house
can't get out of my head
nothing to be said
no need to leave my bed
what a day
flipping hay
what to do
what to say
could pick up food
but to save money
we stay
inside my mind
a constant rhyme
a song plays on
repeat on
this line
straight on
again find myself
a slap of butter stick
melt me on repeat
into these sheets
turn up the heat
feeling weak i finally speak
up on what's
going on
inside is the world
I carry on  
with this poem

you are a man
with a plan
from where I stand
one hand
tied
to my backside

why
oh why
must i comply
one track
mind
flick onto
a folded blind

why
oh why
must you spit
into my eye

lie
on the floor
naked soul
survived.

and although I post them,

I only every write these poems

for me .

They left me alone when I was young
The monsters did
But I got bored of being myself
Plain and simple
And they told me it would be fun
They made my blood pump
And the serotonin flooded my brain
But they started to take over
Their tastes grew darker
It got harder to push them aside
I started losing control
So I learned to channel them
To write their desires
To control the pleasure from the dark depths
Now these words are what remain
My only fix
The solitary outlet
For the monsters inside

It didn't matter. We didn't matter.
"I saw you and felt nothing."
"I saw...you know...and felt something."
That's what you said to me.
You don't want to keep hurting me.
You didn't want to keep lying.
Those statements didn't make a difference when I confronted you, crying.

"Honestly, you're sick."
Disgust and a sour taste filled my mouth.
Your feelings for me are too intense?
That was the same for me.
Notice how that sentence was in past tense.
You couldn't breathe for a second?
You didn't think about your lapse in judgement?
I'm not asking for the world, which you wouldn't be able to give.
I'm asking for the respect,
r the prospect.

Now I'm here, confused.
Tell me what am I supposed to do?
Hold your hand and be a healer
or slap it away because of fear.