First, ink and tree leaves
      Fresh or processed, it works nonetheless
seek a tranquil abode
      And allow creativity to flow through throbbing veins
lock the doors, close your eyes,
      Trap yourself in your consciousness
no escape for the wicked and divine
      Allow the fear of yourself to boil,
the image of her that burns behind your eyes to scald you,
      And the anticipatory chills to soak your entire body.
let them twirl and collide
      Car collisions, fists against walls
face these lost horrors living in the depths of your mind
      Tickle the subconscious,
drifting enough to dream,
      But awake enough to feel the lightening of this storm.
tease and ****** it until it claws for an escape
      Poke and ****, burn it to squirm
the perfect result will be worth the torture.
      Then, at the peak of destruction
when it’s nearing death and combustion
      Release it onto the whiteness of the page
tarnishing it, impure.