It's eating me up alive,
Or am I too rotten to be fed?
Alone, inside-out, my head—
Let me out of this horror fest.

Pictures became archives,
Of a repetitive, stagnant time.
Anger manifests itself—
Am I rotten enough yet?

A sharp pain in my chest;
I put on a smile instead.
Juices seeping out, blood-red—
Pages fill my medical files.

Is it supposed to be a crime?
I am my own target.
The old folks lied—
An apple couldn't keep me alive.

Words cut deeper than knives,
Wounds that fester in my mind.
Home to others, not myself—
Am I rotten enough yet?

So I ain't quite in the box,
If you have children,
If you have a puppy,
If you, if you, if you.
I have my own stuff,
Maybe I need to find my voice,
Maybe I need to not read others,
I'm sick of it.
Sick of not finding where I fit in.
Not finding the so called box.

words
are something
we learn
at a young age
what those around us say
                becomes what we say
but words
are so much more
than our bodies
vibrating air
words tell the world
what our brain is thinking
the words we hear
              become parts of our thoughts
the words that we use
              show the world who we are
where we're from
               and what we want to show others
words written down
carry our thoughts across and through
space and time
a pen and ink
can and have
saved lives
started wars
broken hearts
and blown minds

A word of encouragement
Can nourish a man more
Than any supplement
                              A word of abuse
                              Can wound a man
           To where medicine is of no use
A word of simple compliance
Blinds the mind
                And a few of fierce rebellion
                              Become a battle cry
Maybe a few bad poems
Are less than art
But a brain releasing a cyclone into paper
Had to be a start
Maybe one day
I can find my part (s)
Until then, my mind
Wanders alongside my heart (s)
But these words
Though so little
Are only my start

Purpose is the thing between amazing and now,
And somehow I find that I am now the in between.
The seen and unseen not in the darks hold,
Held in the folds of fog, because I want to be light.