2:16am

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A rush of adrenaline with every stroke of artistic mashochitic creation.
Could it be another untitled master piece on the horizon?
Or just a cliché?
Caused by the lack of substance in his mental maybe?
Sometimes I feel like a young Charles Buwaskim

But love is my escape.
These sheets are our prison
bars
Trapped inside each other 25 to life.
I could do you forever & ever But fuck it ... I mean fuck poetry , emotions , word play & shit.

Why film your life in words when you could really live?
Its twisted though,
cause even your favourite film has a script

I look at these words and feel stripped
Exposed to those with minds so sharp they're confused by their own thoughts ...
But if its blood that you want.
If its war that you want.
Just look up the crystal moon.

I don't do poems  for you no more.
I don't do poems for you no more
I don't do poems for you no more.
I don't do poems for you no more
This This just ... The voice inside my head , touching words inside myself

At 2:16 am
I play prey to the bed bugs Hallucinating
Dreaming
Thinking
Inking
Sinking ...
At the sound of Frank's voice
Feeling what he's feelin' Seeing what he's seein'
My imagination too vivid
I'm  easily seduced by things
So , so ...
Uhm well I got tired in the end. So why can't this be the end?

By: | Sive Njana |

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