Awake and Dreaming

Words bleed from the tips of our pens

Clotting in thick paragraphs, pale sentences

We know the beat of a bad memory,

But we bring it back to life anyway.

We know how lurid, how pretty

Pain can be.

We take moments and

Freeze them.

No matter how much it hurts.

We relish the pain of lost souls and angry youths

The ecstasy of the lonely

The misery of the loved

We drown our victims in the ink we write in.

No second thought given to the fictional rose placed on the grave of the ones we’ve always hated

We’re liars, cheaters, fantasists with kill appeal.

We paint masks to get our way, to have people’s memories spilled on paper.

Our pens loaded with pretty red ink.

We are the bride who knows he isn’t “the one”

We are the unsent love letter, scribbled at midnight and left forgotten on a bedside table

Here we stand as writers, poets, murderers

We are nothing and everything.

We’re the attention whores who want

Our pens keep moving, our words dribble onto paper, screens, the backs of bus time tables..

Continuously haemorrhaging fiction, but never bleeding to death

We force our smiles and fake our screams.

Come and see what we have planned for you..

Get ready,

We’re coming,

Our masks painted on, pens loaded.

We’ll walk on sunshine, to get to you. We’ll force this poison into our arms, to get to you. We’ll twist the sane, to get to you.

We’re liars.

We’re killers.

We’re cheaters.

We’re writers.

Be ready, we’re coming.