Poems/Spoken Word

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Somedays, I feel so low and alone and not real, dead... that the words just come out.

Maybe my demons and trauma bring out the worst of me
Maybe my art is felt and something not meant to see
Or the spinning perhaps
Causes another relapse

What happens when the monsters come back
And I can't breathe and there's no slack
Is the heavy part
Making the best art

Im not sure it's worth my heart
If I'm waiting to be home for a fresh start
Is this legacy worth it, my life making it right
If the most traumatic is the darkest when I'm alone at night

Tears stinging my already burnt skin
Trying to wash away the loss, making room for a win
But Im low and lost
Circus highs and The First Of May may end in a low with a high cost

I feel as low as these tires are to the ground
But I get lost in the chances of me being found
What are the chances I can feel safe and sound
If I'm living a false life and I'm stuck down

Up all night
Nightmares took out the light
Part of me wants Richard to pull me under
And then half of me wants to survive the thunder

Drive to a old familiar Nebraska town
To release the choke of being held down
Broken smile by a broken frown
Smiles don't define a happy clown