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I’ll indite my crude and clumsy rhymes
From my place in the pitch dark
And will wait all night if needs must
For that one creative spark

That will manifest thoughts in my mind
Into a charged lightning bolt
Strike my memories, open my wounds
And let writing be my salt

So cut me and see the metaphors
Floating around my blood stream
Pour salt on the literal lesions
To punctuate my primal scream

As painful at first as the memory
But after the initial sting
Wounds will heel, leaving only scars
Numbness replaces everything

This lack of feeling is temporary
As a writer I live for the pain
Of opening up new abrasions
To keep me lucid and sane

Deviant words in dank surroundings
Disturbed thoughts I can not waste
I apologise in retrospect
But I was in such a bad place
7x
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March 24, 2013
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