I'm a crazy woman you know.
That's what
all the men tell me.
Even though
I'm not the first
to yell or
even the last to.

I've learned.
Don't ever tell
your partner
what diagnosis
the psychologist
tell you.
They will use it to
slit your wrist,
arms,
and soft
under belly.
Gutting you like a fish
getting ready to be fried on
a scorching pan.

They'll make you question
what had happened
and what was said.
Remember I'm the nut job here.
Not the schizophrenic man
who yells at the black blob
on the floor.

He knows exactly what happened
so don't you dare question.
It will turn into a ping pong game
one that will wear you down
and make you want to
spend all your money in your bank account.
Do a lot of drugs,
smash your face into a plastic screen

Yes, yes I see the blob too
I tell him time and time again
I've gotten on my knees
trying to scrub it out!
Even tried to chase it away with
a baseball bat
but still it lays there
mocking
mocking.

Like the woodpecker
who continues to
beat the trees
at all hours of the day.
Bang
Bang
Bang
It's like a shot gun being fired.
Shaking all the dried leaves
off your tired wasted head.

Where was I?
Oh yes I'm a real ******* nut.
That's why I cry and cry
to the point that I start
Hyperventilating
choking
on the words
I can't even get out.
                   I'm the bad guy
                    I'm the problem
and all the pressure you feel is me
me
me

I can't even write
a ******* poem
right now.
There's a broken vase
on the floor
and the house is
shaking from the
thunder coming in from the west.
The kids are whining
and the dishes are
talking ***** to each other.
and I'm so stressed
my mind has stopped thinking.

My body wants
pleasure
a little pain
maybe even a little teasing
to make it extra good.
Anything to take away what it is
I'm stuck feeling right now.