My brain is broken.
I can’t write,
I can’t read,
I can’t fuck.
My mind is filled with many thoughts,
Some useless and many horrifying.
Is this the death of my creative mind?
Is this the death of my erotic nature?
Oh, how I wish
I could cut open my head,
Pull out my brain,
And squeeze the content onto the white pages.
I need to feed my desire,
I need to feed my readers,
I need to feed my obsession.