I had to get the venom out first,needed to suck it outan...

 I had to get the venom out first,

needed to suck it out
and spit it out

out
out
out.

And it so happened
I did so with words,

words that I decided back then
could only be spat in front of an audience.

Do I regret airing every single dirty item in
my laundry basket?

Do I regret regurgitating every pain on themicrophone in hopes that it leaves my body in an echo?

Do I regret the rebirth that sadly had victimsof collateral damage?

At times.

Often,
I grimace
remembering everything I told you
and how I felt you were entitled to the worst ofme,
like a public crucifixion
at every open mic.

I now realize there are
other ways to say things
that are still as honest
but just not as compulsive.

I don't owe you everything that happened.
You don't own my tragedy.
There is life in me that demands to be written
I won't let my words be confined to sadness.

I am someone beyond the pain.
My strength and joy demand to be seen.

I am still someone

even when I am not bleeding publicly,

and if that makes my writing less profound inyour eyes,
so be it.

I deserve to live.

That is now my priority.