I only beat you
Because I love you
Mother said.  After I died.
  
She wanted me to be good
So she beat me 'til I bled
Now I'm dead

Every day my welts bleed
Like the day I was suspended
In the fourth grade
For disrupting the learning
Process of the other children
  
No child should be sent home for that
No child should be sent home after that
No child should be sent home back to that
No child should know this pain
  
Mother said I was faking it
  
I try to sleep at night
Lying there
My welts still bleeding

Do you write poetry to get it all out
Or to hide it?
Do you  write because  you  want to scream
And shout, or because you cant hide it?

I write when  im lonely
When the demons inside me get roudy
When the drugs  come a'howlin
And my familys looking over  me,
Frowning

I write  when the slits on my wrists  look like the telephone  lines i should be calling
But instead of screaming i just end up scrawling
All my pathetic  overstated  woes
Right here

So  facilitate  me, you strangers
Love this post.  Even though i hate it
Youve no idea the dangers im in
Trying to stay  away from that whole bottle of gin
In the corner

Facilitate  my anxieties
Show me your  all just sheep
Flocking  to  litterature like the  bowls of soup attract the meak

Im not a person here.
None of you really care
Are you even self aware
Do you know That even though its poetry
Theres a person  there?

the day I hated the world
I wanted to squeeze lemonade
out of sunshines' smiles
fill a rose colored glass
with **** positiveness pour
the saying win-win in the
******* toilet while flushing,
and regurgitating-
rip all the signs down advertising
merchandising commercializing
proselytizing -take Nancy Grace's
annoying know it all *** on
face to face and pull some ignorant *****
asscheeks over their ears, **** in
their neck-
rip all the sermons of every preacher
to pieces,
choke world leaders with
**** and peace while all the
broken threads of promises
on their watch haunted from
graves and holocausts and
mass killings and enslaved
blacks indians
whoever you don't like,  
the weak, gays liberals skinheads
Vietnam Vets
old people graying alone dogs
with rabies vampires of society drunks
****** lonely sub-culture types wearing no shoes
no hopes and no dreams buy because of you
, because of culture to be in, in the crowd
of popularity once like a Warhol prediction
getting their 15 minutes
at the aim of a politician policeman radical Islamic terrorist
or the freaking nut down the  street with an AR-15 and 100,000
reasons to go mad.

An irrational fixation, an aberration of sense and reason, a heart committed to treason, betraying the self and the pursuit of peace