addictivepoison

I want to write rough and raw and unbearable     the way cigarettes taste at midnight     to a tired atheist knocking on a locked church door     wondering whether to pray or scream I want to write cold and brutal and honest     like fog-choked dawns on unfamiliar city streets     when the silence presses behind your eyelids     and breathing feels like blasphemy I want to write like the midnight air that burns the back of your throat     like cold fury and boiling hatred     like the panic that eats into bone marrow     the fear that runs prickling fingers down twisted spines I want to write of you and me and everything     pin

I've run out of words to describe this feeling. I'm just an empty page where there used to be meaning.