I am a fool
with too many words inside of me
I let them out
I hold them in
I vomit them
and many are repulsed
when like a dog
I am left
lapping up my own words
as if they were gifts
from me to
whomever
whatever
wherever
because each and every one
demands a reaction
more often than not
the reaction is
judgement
one way
or another
my bloodletting
spurts of and from
my soul
lies
in chalked outlines
where I lay
and where I have lied
my blood and body
compromises me
over and over again
withers
but never completely dies
this my own
this my own
chronic suicide
01/22/09 11: 34pm E.S.T
Stephen Warren Williams
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chronic-suicide/
