I can’t seem to find my muse.
I feel like I’m making an excuse, but without one I feel lost.
My words don’t flow.
My poems don’t fit right.
Sometimes I wonder if things are going nowhere.
Do I search again?

The critically acclaimed writer spilt his story.
All eyes watching, he spoke beautifully and with authority.
The world loved his words.
I sit and envy.
My words reach with short arms.

His writing was decent but he was a pretentious prick. He had “starved more than the next man.” He was “more creative than the greats.” He had “done more drugs than you could Imagine.” The truth was that he was a convincing pretty boy that had more ego than his words could support. He had no passion. He had no heart. He dabbled in writing and had knowledge of the English language. But when it all came down to it he didn’t live for his writing, he just lived behind the facade.

He growled with anger as he cocked back again to punch the television. I grabbed him and I could feel his heart beating at an insane rate. He struggled from my grip and had dropped himself to the ground. Knowing his history I quickly brought the failed restraint to the ground. I was fully aware of the legality issues that come with a ground restraint, but the past has shown that the man will only become more violent if left alone on the ground. His rage increased as I held his head from biting me. Another staff member shows up and holds the man’s legs so I can have a break from being kicked in the side of the face. His body is small, but powerful. The other residents watch as if we’re providing entertainment. The aggression settles and we all begin to relax. We release the man and he sits up breathing heavily with the look of defeat in his face. My muscles slowly begin to tense up and the pain of my exhaustion begins to set in. Just another day at work.

Let me take time to enjoy the silence.
Let me enjoy the lack of criticism.
Let me face my demons without fear.
Let me show the world what I’m afraid of discussing with anyone.
Let me have my time.

Maybe some day I’ll write words worthy of the world’s eyes.
Maybe I’ll be clever enough to catch the attention of the masses.
I’ll have to make sense by then.
I’ll have to get my act together.
Maybe some day I’ll be able to finish something and be happy with it.
Maybe I’ll make a masterpiece.
I’ll have to refine until it’s perfection.
I’ll have to pay more attention.
Maybe some day I’ll be who I’ve always wanted to be.
I’ll have to try…

I was the strange kid in high school that talked to no one and wrote in a journal during class.
Separated from reality, I wrote poetry and thoughts that crossed my mind from time to time.
I was the kid that always impressed my classmates with my words in English class when it was time for peer reviews.
I didn’t try I’m school so my teachers quit on me.
All but my English teacher.
She pulled me aside and complimented me on my imagination and detailed descriptions.
She told me to write more.
I told her I had a drug problem and need to turn work in late.
She gave me an A for the year.
My outlet…

Who asked to be judged on there choices?
Anything is everything.
Who paused and decided what the ideal human being consists of?
Everything waits for no one.
How long did it take for perfection to be agreed upon?
No one waits for just anyone.
One day our eyes will close and our mouths will make our statements.
Anyone know anything?

His breath warm and frightening.

The tears haven’t stopped since the ride.

My flesh curls back like Christmas ribbons.

He hacks at my back for days.

He calls me his angel.

No other feeling in the world like smelling burning skin.

I clench at the pain,

but it never gets any better.

I have no wings.

I still don’t understand.

How long have I been here?

Alone?

Or am I?

My brain attacks itself.

Like im fighting a nuclear war.

Do I love?

Do I deserve to love again?

Will I ever understand the everlasting concept that is love?

Will my questions ever be answered?

Why can’t I ever feel good?

WHY CANT ANYONE LOVE ME?….