Just write… Shit

at some point in time you have to move beyond drafts

being comfortable to just write

creating and crafting something that only you can understand.

forged from pain only you feel

so why shouldnt you


write like a desperate man with everything to loose and nothing to live for.

drowning in sorrows

grappling at that life boat of release

to fill

this emptines of being full to the brim

but unable to let go

to climax.

like a hard up virgin

not schooled in the art of pleasuring herself

totally innocent

thinking that the orgasm just happens

on its own without that ever so subtle touch.

At some point frustration gets tired,

like a played out defense mechanism

looking sympathy

but who can symphatise with someone rotting in a prison of their own making.

writing cliques about nothing and everything

and its really exhausting you see.


you are not allowed to feel frustrated

and burnt out

because life still goes on

It waits for no one

Least of all, me.


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