Sunday, September 16, 2007

Mental Gun to My Own Head

If I didn’t put all of my thoughts
my emotions
my heart on paper
I’d be like a lost soul
roaming around in search of
a savior
Like those guys walking around
mumbling incessantly to imaginary
Emptying their heads for days on end
I can’t go to sleep while my brain
continues our conversation
I become a midnight marauder
Only it’s my mind that partakes in the
Tales of sexuality, mental issues,
abuse in all kinds of forms
The ink coming from a never ending
supply of my life’s blood
My head a reservoir after all of my
At times it’s therapeutic,
sometimes I write to music
I have this fear that if every idea
I get isn’t copied the minute I get it
I’d lose it
I know what it’s like
to sit up night after night
Getting cramps in my hands
and crying because I’m too tired to
Taking something to zone out
Crawling into my bed
But something makes me get up
So I often pass out at my desk
In this ongoing battle
my body and brain each wants
My sanity is the prize
Consider this message an SOS from
my soul

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