A Madman's Journal (Poetry)

I can only write
it’s all that I know
how to do right — or
as well as those who
call themselves writers

It’s my excuse for
living half a life
existing inside
my own head for years
editing strange thoughts

Some too outrageous
to ever be shared
they marinate there
labelled like poison
under lock and key

Should any poet
admit to having
such insane ideas?
It can’t be healthy
to keep them cooped up

Perhaps I should start
a madman’s journal
pretend it’s fiction
set my monsters free
call it therapy