I don’t know that I trust myself
To keep my brains like a raw egg
When the time comes (when I’m supposed to know what to do)
And not to crack my skull,
See my brains drip into the bowl,
Mix them up for a broken yolk,
And then pour them into the pan
So they can scram(ble.)

Sometimes I wonder
If I’ll have to salt them
or add any pepper
or just dig in.

Sometimes I hunger
To know everything
Sometimes I feel so engorged
I’d rather know nothing.

The worst part is not knowing
That the worst part is knowing.

I want to hate my own guts
But that’s--that's utterly nuts,
For it’s never the guts
Should be disdained—
It’s the yolk in my egg, or
The stuff in my brains in my head.

Sometimes I wake up
And I know tomorrow's secrets
It's scary, knowing what comes next
Like reading the last page of a book
Then reading the rest

Have you ever known tomorrow's secrets?
Have you ever had to hide because you can't handle knowing?
And being unable to change it?

But who will ever really know
Who knows has known and will know?
God.

These glimpses are gifts
Treasures
Precious little things
Not to be taken lightly

Still, it's scary, knowing tomorrow's secrets
Unable to change them
But knowing them all the same.

good news, i have cured my own writer's block.
an interesting thought roamed my mind on march 20th, 2018
"i have not felt any emotions in quite some time."

precious time that i have missed out on the feeling of a smile settling itself onto my face

the conclusion that i came to: when i cant feel, i cant write.
i had cracked the mystery of why my pen and my mind could not seem to cooperate
causing a disruption in my routine to write something substantial in weeks

so, i opened the flood gates and let my emotions rush out to drown the city in my mind
broken down into two million, one hundred thousand, and sixty-eight pieces i tried to analyze myself

kind of like a detective looking for a lead on a case taking years to unfold

thankfully i found an answer
i found myself a pool of green in a room of white
negative emotions seeping toxicity into the air that bubbles above it
a poison ready to coat you and deteriorate every cell in your body one at a time

i took a leap in the pool of course and found that i was coming up empty handed

so i sat down on my bed amongst my smooth polar bear covered sheets
and i pulled my notebook and pen off of the nightstand

then i took a deep breath
and wrote this poem to cure my writer's block

All I wish to say to you people,
oh so much problems that can be solved,
But no, you wish for them to inflict me with burns.

A Bare Flare.
Fire that stings, your words are poison, while my rage is hell.
You have no idea what I do, or what I feel, none at all.
I hate you, you seemed like you were interested, like you cared, like you were trying to get closer to me.

Like Hell You Were.

How many times have I wanted to hang from the ceiling?
How many times have I wanted to take those pills?
How many time have I wanted to throw myself off?
Do you know?

No.
Shut up.

You.
All you do is *****, and complain to me, asking what the ******* can do,
Well guess what, you can't do ****.
I never ******* asked you to do anything, because I know you can't do anything, *****, *****, *****!

"We're trying to help you"
Does yelling ever solve a problem?
"What are we supposed to do? What do you want us to do?"
When did I make a request?

Unsheathing your words and plunging them into my back, the flying poison tipped arrows, killing me slowly, I'm going to snap.
Shatter, and break and crack.
I hate it, and I hate you two, you ******* two.
**** pair those ones, just a ******* joke now days, least that's how I see it.
. . .
Shut the **** up and listen to me for Gods sake,
I hate myself, and I want to end everything, because you never help never at all and it's ridiculous, ******* stupid.
Now shut up while I'm speaking, I'm talking here
When did I ever ask you to do anything?
When the **** did this conversation suddenly turn into this *******?

Again.

You think you know me, your kid, your child, spawn, offspring.
You Don't.
Maybe you'll realize that when I'm gone.
Sorry I'm not good enough for you arseholes.

I wanna leave, so I plan to, hopefully far far away from you lot,
I don't want to see you, I don't want to be near you, the thought of you two is making me sick.
Let me ask once more - if you actually let me finish,
Do You Really Know Me?