I am going to write something so good that you’ll feel as if the words come off the screen and fucking rip your soul out, puncturing your lungs and crushing your rib cage.
It’s going to be so painful yet so satisfying, a contradiction. My pain, happiness, love, and hate will be embedded in my words, temporally freeing me from existence. It will transmit into you, impregnating your soul, birthing a monster. Or, I can just put my fingers away and go back to the drudgery of life?
In my dark corner I write. No I vent. I feed off the darkness.
The only light allowed to illuminate is from the face of my laptop. My feelings navigate throughout my body until they reach my finger tips. With every press of the keyboard, slivers of my feelings leap out percolating into words.
I continue pushing the laptop’s teeth; pouring out my poison, my demons, my life. The laptop’s eyes blink, a blank page is born. It needs nutrition so I nurse it with more sentences. Symbolism, metaphors, and similes are instilled in its growth.
It is 9 pages old now, officially an adult, maturity is apparent. It is still night in my corner, must finish venting before the day is delivered.
15 pages later, my feelings escaped, finding solace in my words, hiding out from those in control. Laptop asks me if I want to save my changes. I say no. Like the darkness, my words will never be seen.
***Thank you for taking the time to read my work. If you enjoy what you read; please share, like, and comment. All of these details help me drastically and will allow me to write more often. Thank you for your support!***