How do you transform,
emotions into words?
How do you describe despair,
without sounding absurd?

How can you paint,
using just text?
Trying your best to show hell,
through memories so convex.

It’s distorted, and ******,
and makes no ******* sense.
So you simply stop trying,
and let the pen run hence.

It’s like a highway,
from your head to your hand,
and the words simply flow,
into pictures you understand.

Vivid details,
melted to the core.
Simplistic observations,
into complicated lore.

It’s a rush, and insane,
like a dictated fever.
Like Frankenstein’s monster,
after pulling the lever.

When it’s done, and you’re empty,
re-reading your prose,
you can feel that channel,
starting to close.

Those are the times,
when I’m most at peace.
When the poison is gone,
and I’ve fed the beast.

I’ll never know how,
I get rid of the pain,
but thank God I can,
or I’d go insane.