Maxwell Asked For My Help

You must at least let my words be out of control
Sometimes, on paper, in speech,
Else I’m not sure what I could do:
I have seen silenced lambs and caged dogs—
Tongueless messiahs with no ink. You
Must let me be wild in thought, perhaps then
With words, as I get it wrong and get it wrong
And wrong so I can draft myself—improve. You must let me move
Out of myself, all of my selves
Needing your allowances
In this world—ours—if you want to change it; else
I could eat it—break it all——I could be
So thoughtless; only
Let me bring out my worst
Me to control this
In me, as I can be
Many things: I am still not sure
What some of them could do, as I need to explore, having had
No voice or art early; so I remain
Hungry and I could be
Almost careless with my appetite
If you do not let me purge, somewhat
What you may not like to hear, allowing me
To be gross with my hands
Up, your own hands
And pens out, off the page, your own thoughts
And words willing to share
This world with me, while I am mindless, out of control
Trying to keep myself in it. You
Must let me speak
My mind, at times, on your time—on
Each others—so we can tackle the powers above us; else
Forget what I say: I’m not sure what I’d be capable of
If I could not speak—express myself; so

Please, at least
Sometimes, let my words be out of control wrong
So I can move through and away from them, and
With that, change your world, you spoilt pri- (hence
He asked for my help).