The Demon of Creative Energy

Check out my you tube channel. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXUvLXEnRfc

I am dumb
with wonder, that I'm
not torn asunder, that my brain and body don't burst, under the
torment of the demon that lives in me.
He longs to be free, struggling clawing, scratching to be released, shrieking at me to write the words that reside inside.
I tried hard to drown him with vodka and Guinness Stout, but he learned to swim.

So once again, we toast the night alone by candlelight, as I read Sylvia Plath while he takes a bath in dark Irish beer. He knows that writing's fantastic, orgasmic, electric, and we cum together as he whispers me sweet prose while doing the back float in a sea of Absolut.
I'm destitute, but he doesn't care, just as long as I share his seed that spills from my quill.
And so, I hear is shrill voice in the middle of the night, screaming, screeching, write m**********r,
write.

Author's Note

Check out my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems on Amazon.com

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

:0 ... i have read that .. just keep writing .. intense passion in your lines .. myself .. not quite so driven .. but i certainly can relate .. thanks for sharing your very personal wrestle with the demon .. figuratively speaking of course .. also .. i do enjoy the Irish kick
E.

[Thomas W Case]

Thank you. I appreciate the read and review.

[andrew mitchell]

Poor Ted he never gets a mention a raw powerful write.

[Thomas W Case]

Thanks for the read and review.

[John the Baptist]

Oddly, my muse has never screamed write, m**********r, write at me. More often than not, she mutters, You again? I have a headache tonight.

[Thomas W Case]

Lol, thanks, John.

[Neville]

when all else fails, Sylvia always does it for me ..

[Thomas W Case]

Thanks, bro.