Sometimes
My questions are often answered
By the tiny voice in my head,
You know the passive one
That moves out of the way
For my obnoxious impulsive tendencies
That slit my wrist
With actions that have
Entirely no justification

I try to channel
The quiet soft whispers
But then stomeimes,
I smash it with a hammer
Demanding harder yelps

My insides are so messy
They need a vacuum cleaner
To **** it dry
Of all the intensity

Someimtes
I ask the question
Who will love these voices
As much as i do
Or even a fraction will settle
But I am always left
Smiling with the tears
Of an almost encounter
With your better half