Many think of anger, as hot
fiery
volcanoes erupting
The ground shaking
Thunder
In my fathers voice

When I think of being angry
I think of silence
Of turning the ocean to ice
I think of glass
And reflections
I think of lava
because I think true rage
is kept hidden

It isn't the smoke that escapes nature's destruction
Or the roaring flames that engulf it
It isn't a thousand shattering windows
Or a deafening wind

Its the silent, burning lava
Rage is eternal
Destroying all in its path
Without so much as a
*Whisper

They tell me I'm great
And that I''ll go far
Because I posses such "intelligence"
For someone so young
I say Ive known greater
Ive known smarter
And the acid eating away at my insides
Is a direct result of all
your expectations
That I wont meet
And that test I'll fail on Friday
And all the teachers I'll let down
A doctor's daughter
The family of academics
That somehow bred a writers soul
A so called "artist"
However intellectual
I cannot do this
I cannot

The deed is done; it’s over now.
It had to come out
somehow.
And how the stars shine
brighter now,
out sixty miles from town

and all alone.


You are
You were
(check whichever fits best)
my dearest darling whitest,
the only one I could trust.

Now,
as the dew succumbs to frost,
I begin to fully understand what I’ve lost.

I prayed for love
and received love.

I’m in the business of invention
In the art of new intention
Making something out of nothing
And falling back on no convention

I’m a spontaneous generator
A clumsy, crude, and crazed creator
Deftly dodging laws of physics
And without a moderator

Unchecked I grow my thoughts too fast
Too big, too bold, but built to last
Fed on dregs and trivial words
And made of insecurities vast

I’m in the business of spinning tales
Of conjuring roaring mental gales
Convinced my happiness can’t stick
And swallowed up in false travails

I’m the master of complication
The reigning queen of brute frustration
The duchess of dismantled plans
And dreams that fell to degradation

See, my mind invents its own dismay
And cannot think a simpler way
Assuming all must fall apart
Thus keeping hopefulness at bay

I’m in the business of delusion
Hooked on sinking in confusion
Stuck with a mis-wired brain
That treats all joy like an intrusion

I’m a wild contradiction
Anxious over bits of fiction
Wishing for the chance to breathe
When this rush is my addiction

Worrying is what I know best
Accustomed to distraught unrest
Small wonder that a happy thought
Is treated like a passing guest

Small wonder that my frenzied mind
Assumes that Fate must be unkind
So even when the tides have turned
I cannot leave Distress behind