Release

If nobody sees this, that’s fine.    
I do this for me, to help ease my my mind,
to drain thoughts vile, to bait my smile.    
I may craft lines in a way that’s wild.  
They may not rhyme, they may lack style,  
they may waver in the way of a boat on the Nile.    
No saviour, just a poet in denial  
with hopes of carving out a life worth while.    
Suicidal thoughts put life on trial,    
I address the judge just to burn my files.    
I'm the anecdote, I’m the swill in the vials.  
Sentences postpone phones being dialled,    
over the stench of my poisoned soul been defiled.  
Yes, these lines keep bones from forming a pile.  
So I let words out until they turn into bile,  
or there's enough on the page, to turn in a mile.  
   
Now hot turned mild, time to turn in until a few  
more thoughts compile.  
   
   
   
   
   
There goes that pressure