Penelope van Maasdyk

SCRATCHING around in the depths for the words. Scratching my brain for the structure. Scratching my heart for the emotion. Scratching the dog for inspiration. Scratching the surface. Clawing my way deep inside myself. Nails and teeth. Grit. Torture. Physically exerting the quiet writer inside. Teeth. Biting through the heartache. Covering over with sand. Startled at what was there. The bedlam. The mystery. Use the angst to write the story. Coffee bay and beds. Scratching at my truth. Whose truth. Twisted and dark. Delusions and delirium. Chalkboard. Silent scream. Mice behind the skirting boards: bleeding from nose and gums. Tragic death. Gorey. Brutal. Honest. No compassion for the words on the page. Putting up boundaries to break down the barriers. Feel enough to no longer have to feel the pain. Scratch at the heart because the head does not respond. Scratching tired eyes. Close the book. Put down the pencil. Enough now.
STABBING at the people around me. Solitary existence. Pushing them away. Violently resisting any more feeling. Nerves pricking the edges of me. Stabbing at the pity and stabbing at the judgement. I stand by my choice. Fell them; watch them fall. This is my bubble. My vacuum. Don’t pop it. Don’t let air in. Don’t let me breathe. Suffocating left here alone. But it is my choice,. Mine. I own it. How can I own my own solitude? There is nothing in a vacuum. Creativity is an illusion and my writing is pure impulse. I have to work at the talent. Stabbing at the pages with sharpened tip. Pencil threatened. Pages exposed. Stabbing at my heart – make pain release words. Words now stab the page and watch it bleed. Inspiration flowing away on a stream of blood and pencil lead. Poisoned before it left the page. The poisoned creative genius. Afraid to write. Stilted. Stabbed in heart and head. Death comes to the lonely. Self-inflicted and sore. Missing the point. Sharp. Metal. Buried. Dig with dagger. Dig it out or die alone. Balance on the blade of blame. Lashing. Falling. Rising. Writing. Pencil sharper than sword.


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