Couch surfing
Bed hoping
The living don't see
The dead talking

But it is they who are rotting

My brain is racked
My mind is numb
I want the pain
I let it come

Yes, I may be depressed
Maybe that's what's best
The world is a vampire
It feeds on stress

I write these poems
One go, no editing.
They express how I feel.
I know no better way.
If they come off as aggressive or abrasive,
Confused and evasive,
Inconsistent,
Too real yet nonexistent
That’s only because it’s who I am,
How I am.
I’m only throwing a fit.
It’s only how I feel.

Hear here,
They're there,
Now now.
Let me help calm you down.

Poem

U
Hurt
My
Head

The end