I love to not, fight, writers block.

You think you know life, stand on the edge of things and watch it go by.
But you're not living it,
Not really.
You're just a tourist, a ghost.
And then you feel it,
Really feel it.
It gets under your skin and it lives inside you.
There's no escape, there's nothing to be done.

As you read my poem and these stanzas as they stack
I want you to tell your self that...

I'm am of a different breed.
bred from a different egg, with an edge that's
smooth but cool like the breeze on a mountain edge

Tell your self that...

I am so spontaneous and explosive.
Not even my own notions knows this.

Tell your self that...

I am awesome, amazing, and advancing in me engagements.

Tell your self that.

As the controlled soldier put a bullet in mine brain,
I put love in his soul!!

You would never be just a notch on my bedpost
You'd be the scratches and scrawls
My constant reminders
When I lose my sight
When I no longer hear your laughter
and my memories turn to dust
My fingers will trace those marks
Everyday
and remember you all over again

Suspended by cables from the ceiling
He waits for unconsciousness
Every wound dripping on the floor below
Words cannot escape his discarded tongue
Over on the table are tools for torture
Little does he know, that he is not alone
Full white ****** lab coat greets him
Not explaining what she'll do next
Licking her fingers, she takes the knife
Undoing one clip, she licks her lips
Sensual breaths can be heard
Tracing her fingers on his chest, is Shewolfnlust.