Unsaid

Awakened long after the devil's hour

Roused, excited, as if

          from Fruedian dreams of unfulfilled desires of estascy

To scribe

          letters marred by postscripts,

                   afterthoughts,

                             and oh-by-the-way's

Tossed to the wayside

          choked by un-inhaled breaths

if I only would have said something

Regret-lased ink drugs me

        random, illegible scribbles shoking me into insomnia

Under the hold of expression

Release of the words left unsaid

       Whispering through the inconsistant taps

               of my pen hitting the sheet

Manic

I need to know if

      a few words would have been

              all it took