I'm beginning to form some kind of complex of some sort...feeling distort from time to time...visions of slitting my wrists stays on my mind...my last resort...though I wanna show what makes me me...it's not easy...never being free seems to stop my clear vision see....these words I love the most...my pen my weapon...my mind the host...my thoughts the free spirited ghost of weird writing teeth gritting lip biting....abiding by the rules to write left to right never scribbling the words that are dribbling dripping from my pen ink...I think it's time to show a few lines of mine you know...alphabetical clouds won't disappear though I hear the invisible poets fear a poet like me...dark...writing free as air...I don't care..I mean what I write it with stands my sight beyond sight...my critical thinking word blinking eye lids...
-Peter T. DeSpirito