I think I should write more.
My head is fuzzy with the unspoken words
Of the nameless creatures whom
Spew forth nonsense and melancholy.

Purge. Now there is a word!
An emotional release not unlike
Coming to fruition.

There it is again,
Lust and *** and tulips
Not daffodils, certainly not the rose
Are you as lost as I?

Aimless spurts of feelings
Thinly covered with sheets of paper
The ink like blood, seeps through
A stain of truth that no one can see
Except you, my love.