My Evil Pen Told Me To Write This 4


My Evil Pen Told Me To Write This 4

Tell me your nightmares, feed me your fears, come dance with the devil, drown in my tears. Sway in the spectrum prism prison; hallucinate with me within the breathtaking shades, colour-blind. We’re not here right now, they can’t see us. Caught in the rain, suffocating in misery, pillow my pains. Dribble my emotions and dunk them in the hole in the ground, a winner in the game of life. I am one of a kind, the last of my species; did I reach birth to conquer my own doubt? Waltz with me in my watery grave, hand me a tissue before my war paint runs. I am a writing mosquito; I suck the life instantly from the page.

My friends in my head are talking behind my back, sticking paper to my spine, break me! I am influencing my evil core, even more than you, when I caught you stealing my soul. Lick your lips and kiss me your love, I will pocket your face for later. I am unleashing the beast within, click goes my pen and I never see you here again. I write so much because in truth I speak in tongues, douse me in holy water again. Carrying my cross to work, to Wal-Mart, back to my girlfriend’s house, I need to get nailed quickly, I am sick of waiting.

We’re rich from welfare cheques; throw your food stamps in the air with me, poor us? Poor you! You can almost taste my bittersweet desperation. My heart is broken with no guarantee of love; I fumble, fidgeting my fingers to fix it.  My mind is crowding, I am trying my darndest to push through to you. Knock – Knock! Am I disturbing you yet? Slicing over antique wounds, history will be remembered and the future is bloodcurdling, more pain in store for me to shop over. I’m captivating this world in a page of writing, no one writes as me anymore.  The end of the world is nigh, it has been written in my DNA cells and also my padded cell walls, in suicidal blood.

Box my voice and ink my feelings, colour crayon my insanity and jagged cave my phobias. Reality isn’t my way; contamination has ventured the world’s atmosphere. Cancer candidly coffins my family ancestry; I am the only one in this house who is the true definition of two-faced. To me, sanity is randomly rancid when stranded in my nostrils, a frostbitten brain which shards to pieces if held. There is no sun in this city, hell has frozen over; everyone zombies the wintry streets. Body-bag the bad bad thoughts, label them toe to toe. Download my downhearted emotions in this war-torn lovelorn underworld. I need my imaginary friends to talk with.

I have to keep trekking through this fire.

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Filed under Blog, Blogging, Creative Writing, Life, Literacy, Misc, Scribbling Insanity, Uncategorized, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

8 responses to “My Evil Pen Told Me To Write This 4

  1. Your photo reminds me of a play by the same name –
    Writers do dig into their inner depths for inspiration – some of it is dark and twisted.


  2. thefallingsparrow

    “I have to keep trekking through this fire”

    Might have to steal that line.


  3. Pingback: My Evil Pen Told Me to Write This – 3 | Adult & Teen Fiction

  4. Pingback: My Evil Pen Once Again | Adult & Teen Fiction

  5. Pingback: True Evil Holds a Pen | Adult & Teen Fiction

  6. Reblogged this on Adult & Teen Fiction and commented:

    My Evil Pen Told me to Write This 4!


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