Late night panics,
right hand shaken,
covered in blood and scars.
****** therapy sessions,
sane pills I’ve taken,
my inner critics
in their tea party
laughed and said
I’m insane.
Yet I say
“we’re all ****** here…”
Lost friends,
killed souls
I’ve stayed with—
sadly ended…
Always a memory away—
Gotta keep my head up…

All letters,
diaries and poems
I’ve written—
Scattered into
riddles and enigmas.
Readers falling down
rabbit holes—
Or that’s just
me as a poet…

My ticker,
a mad rabbit,
It runs—
Keeps running—
Running into
a train...