Dark poems

Survival

I have a rage inside me. Something I need to control, but I do not want to.
I know that should I fail to control it, bad things will happen.
It will be worse than how it is now. But
I still want to release it. Not
In the way of batting cages, or drawing, or writing, but
In the way of violence. Real, painful violence. Never towards myself. Not anymore.

Her is who I want to
Hit. Over and over, until my
Hands are bleeding, and then more. Until I
Hear her stop crying for
Help. And her
Head hits the floor for one last time.

And I know she is dead. Finally she is dead. Still, I don't stop.
Again
And
Again I hit her for
As long
As I possibly can. I know

That eventually I will rise,
Trembling, not from realization, but from
The adrenaline running
Through me.
The sound of sirens has always
Terrified me, so I do not call the police. Not yet.

Emptiness is finally upon me. Not the feeling, but the sound. It is
Extremely
Enjoyable. I have not had silence in this house for
Eons. I take comfort in it for a few moments. Them I remember what needs to be done.
Everything must be
Exact. Be careful not to

Hurry. No detail can afford to be overlooked. Any
Hint of a struggle must be
Hidden. Clean up all the blood with bleach, then cover the bleach. Think of a place to
Hide the body. Drive there with the body and bike. Ditch the car with
Her inside.
Hopefully they never find her.

Even if they do, and it comes back to me, maybe one of them will
Empathize. And I can
Explain to them why I did it. I probably won't be
Executed. Tried as an adult, imprisoned, which is
Expected. After all, my reasons will be viewed only as weak
Excuses, but I don't want to die. I don't deserve it.

Really, I will never follow through. I want to, but I can't. So I do what I can.
Relive events that have never happened.
Run through what I would do if they did.
Remind myself that I am not alone, and people can help me cope.
Relax, deep breaths, in and out.
Remember that I need to survive.