Alone in a dark room at 2 am
I think about how I fake
or force most of my emotions.
That might explain
why I'm so socially awkward
and why I tell girls
and my coworkers
and my dead friends
to *******.
all of them are fools
myself included.

Alone in a dark room at 2 am
I think about how I try to fit in
how I want to belong
how I want to be one of the boys
how I want to be loved
how I want to love
how I want to be human
and feel human
(in all ways except physical)
and how much easier life would be
if I had just been born
away from my own thoughts.

Alone in a dark room at 2 am
I think how I forgot
most of this poem
that I wrote down in my head
while I was working
because I can multi-task
but it doesn't matter now
I've got most of it down
I think.

Alone in a dark room at 2 am
I think about all the diagnosis
that have been thrown at my face
Bipolar
Schyzofrenic
Schizoid
and depressed.
At this point I just consider it
name calling
but I have much a better diagnosis
that requires no anti depressants
or anti psychotics
I've self diagnose
as an *******.

Alone in a dark room at 2 a.m
I think about how
the men in white cloaks
tell me how I shouldn't abuse
Alchool
Cigarrettes
Drugs
and that I should take my medicine.
Little do they know
that all of the above
I consider medicine
and that I do abuse all of them
except my pills.

Alone in a dark room at 2 a.m
I think about how I fantasize
about death and suicide.
That lady death is my mistress
one shy kiss away
from setting me free
from all this boring routine
that we call life
work, relationships, eating
*******, sleeping, talking
and living
all of which
I do very little of.

Alone in a dark room at 2 a.m
I wonder how much better
life would be
for those around me
if I had just been locked up
in some loony bin
and stayed there
for the rest of my days.
In a way
I'm locked up in this madhouse
that some call
my mind.

Alone in a dark room at 2 a.m
I just
write
and
breath
and
think
and
finish
this
poem.