I sit there on the bus, taxi, train or cab . Stopping oneself from 

giving me verbal jab. 

Composed I go, along this journey, where all

can see. 

Everything seems fine and dandy, to thee.  Smiling, working, and 

dancing to cause a mystery. 

Yet inside its a hurriance,  very violently.  Feeling on edge, close 

to despair, is how it is for me. 

The energy spent to contain this, is illusory. It's a debt that needs to

be paid, soley be me.

At night I write, and write, and write until I can't spell no more. 

The words fall out from the founatin pen, unlike this 

cranial sore.

Whatever I do doesn't seem to work, whilst laying in bed.

Tossing and turning, crazy at night,  is the standard thing for me.

Cutting oneself, over and over, is an option I may take. Yet 

the earthy part of me would never do no harm.

Maybe if I give one more day, this storm may pass. 

On and on this feeling goes, total lethargy.

Crazy times in this life are abound for me. 

Oh someone is coming towards me now, I have to blank this 

feeling away.. 

Maybe if I pretend long enough I will drown this feeling out.