you smoke the day’s last cigarette…..

Yes, I know I should be sleeping… but the words won’t go away. they are always there, gnawing at me to write them. IF i wrote them all, however, I sure would piss people off. I am disturbingly adept at ripping people’s balls off with words. I am not so good at rainbows and butterflies… But find me a motherfucker who wants to argue and I turn into one of the Brontes. I don’t really know WHY the writer in me is so inherently Wicked… I don’t really mind, either. I know my words cut to the quick and brand themselves on people’s minds. I know that I possess the ability to forever wound an ego… and I don’t mind one bit swinging that sword. It is what I do. It is who the writer in me is. She is a cold hearted nefarious bitch, ever seeking yet another battle.I spent many years tamping her down to societies standards to some point. I don’t anymore. This is me… this is the persona I write. If you don’t like it, don’t fucking read it.. I shall dive delightedly into my own delusion of grandeur to swim in a pool of splendid narcissism and miss you not one iota. 


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