all the stupid ****
the notes
the pictures
the dumb little heart shaped pieces of paper that stacked up on my desk
I just want you to know
I kept them

Yes, I am trying
No, I have not made progress
You will still haunt me

You know at this point in my life I thought that holding a loaded handgun to my head would make me feel something
Regret
Fear
Sadness
Instead I feel cold metal as my own skin
I feel relief as I put pressure on the trigger
But the safety is on
Just in case

I showed my poems to a friend of mine and she told me it wasn't real poetry.
I asked why?
"It doesn't rhyme, the meaning is too open, you don't have to think to get it."
What is that supposed to mean
I want you to get my poems I use them to cry for help
I can't afford the help I need so I write words instead of crying
I told her if it was too simple she should go read Bradbury or something
I don't need to rhyme to tell you things like
Those who are heartless once cared too much
Or The most broken people smile the most
I know because that's me ******
I don't need your validation if you don't validate me at all.

I draw monsters.
Faceless, too many arms, disfigured, sharp teeth.
I draw monsters because they're fun.
Some skinny, some wide, some tall, some very very tiny.
I draw monsters because they're easy to do.
They start to look more like me however.
Somewhere along the twisted images start to remind me of myself.
I draw monsters because I relate to suffering.
Being twisted and evil.
Eternally in agony.
I draw monsters because I am one

I don't feel myself
Without you
Without me
What's wrong with me?
Too poor for therapy
Too proud to ask for help
I'm not myself lately.
If only I knew why
If only you cared

But I'm sad man
I remember what I had man
It was pretty rad man
But now I feel so bad man
I want to not be mad man
But it's all coming up sad man
One day it'll be rad man...