She’s trying to take my writing from me.
her false skin and cell-stealing scales mark my floor;
my will altered,
and thoughts filled with rubbish.
Why is she taking my writing from me?
stealing the words before my mind can form them
breathing in the syllables that leave my word-chapped lips
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
choking on the emptiness in my head
the rabid hisses and snarls-
a murderous cacophony in my ears;
Burn the paper
The stale nib of your rusted pen,
a slash through the burgundy ink borne in your veins
Silver spined barbells chained to my wrists,
Drowning in a mosh pit of ignorance
a ship-wrecked soul bleeding through my lifeless eyes;
Why won’t she let me write?
her vice grip on my battered heart,
torn emotions warring beneath her warped talons
and ropes of despair chaining me to my limbless body;
But it’s all that I have left;
It’s all that I am.
a gymnast without arms
a surgeon without eyes
A writer that cannot write.
my fingerless arms,
clot my sight
break my spirit;
But you won’t have my tongue.