(2014)
Itchy It has to come off Nerves Makes me pick His look
A palomino gallops Beside the highway Look out the window Rides over green hills Through yellow flowers
Bags full of diapers Cars waiting in line Smell coming from the load Ashamed it was mine He noticed my insulin pump
The more you treat me like a nag The more I become one I’m sorry if I micromanage Your clean clothes Your hot meals
My objective is selfish Not to share or be heard To get it out and move on No one seems to hear my pain No one seems to feel my pain
The pressure inside Is building It comes out through my eyes I stop up the tears It comes out through my nose
Desperate for his attention Knowing it will drive him away Jealous of a game - how lame Choking self-esteem where I lay Desperate for his affection
Restless As I lay in bed Trying to fall asleep These are my clues I might be low
Traffic Irritation becomes a nightmare As the lines start to squiggle Bending in and out And the world starts its attack
Some I like to share Fresh out of the oven Don’t let it get cold That’s why I wrote it Emotions in that moment
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
Her fingernails Natural Long Pointed On fingers
How can I write how I feel When what I feel is nothing? How can I tell you what I need, What is wrong? When what is wrong
By nature high-strung But I thought I was strong If not physically, emotionally For things to roll off my back Be mature and take the high road
Rough day Rough night If I could live In my bath Water would never