I could pull my hair out

I could chop ham in two

I could smack someone’s face off

Or hold my breath till I’m blue

 

If I ran down the street screaming

Or pulled out all my hair

If I pounded the floorboards

With hands bleeding bare

 

I suppose I could yell

And hurt those I love

It wouldn’t be so bad would it?

To blame the man up above?

 

But in the end I’ll just sit here

And write till it sizzles

Till it thaws and dissipates

Till the self inside twizzles

 

The rocks pile up higher

The pressure worth crying

But for something so little

It’s not really worth dying

 

Pen to paper, soul to sky,

The clenching will dry

Back to comfort will fly

The arrogance-fueled explosive high