I want to write something but I don't know where to begin anymore, words used to flow from my brain like a pre-teen's first bleed, with the ease of an experienced drunk's latest puke and man that puke would be pungent and technicolour and all at once, fingers tiny serial killers, mad rapists stabbing at the keys frenetic and desperate to keep up with the flood of words, the glorious vomit of language on a page so white it was painful now, words sputter and stop and start and sputter again lame gangster tommy gun unoiled and jamming, nervous high school slow dance sweat pants hard-on kind of nervous unsure of where to put these hands, keep stiff cock from poking her in the belly and stay in rhythm all at the same time it used to flow so naturally, feels a bit forced, but it's beginning to flow a bit better now though, I can hear her waking up, feel her shifting on the floor of the cranial den built from sagging curtains of grey meat and free opium, I see her shaking off the fumes and stretching her arms, she wants to wake, wants to feel that hard cock pressed against her belly, be stabbed by my stuttering fingers once more and they ache for her it strains and throbs and the words are building up in there testing the stretch of this skin bag seeing just how much force it would take to make it burst, spill words and blood and vomit all over her again that would be glorious
Wow that was brutal and honest, it gave me a jolt. I know exactly how you feel, except for the hard-on part.
What a great poem. It flows like an angry desperate rant and the imagery is disgustingly perfect. Fucking great stuff.
