Dear Introvert

writer. creative soul. black sheep.


March 2016



The White Rabbit found on Polyvore


You are the dark alley way I shouldn’t roam.

You are the drug that overdoses, mouth of foam.

You are the final shot of whiskey – drink too much.

You are the burning stove – red hot to touch.

You are the violent current that takes me under.

You are the heathen who knows pillage and plunder.

You are the venomous snake with the deadly bite.

You are the bully dog born and bred only to fight.

It’s chasing the rabbit, but forever in a dream.

It’s a mouth sewn shut, sealing off the scream.

It’s hugging a porcupine, face full of quills.

It’s losing my mind, swallowing your pills.

It’s trying to hold a hand that holds a knife.

It’s your weight on this chest that crushes my life.

It’s running as fast as I can but in circle formation.

It’s waiting for a train that has long left the station.

You can starve her heart and you can cage her mind,

she’ll set herself free with time.

You will search but never find,

another one of her kind.

This is a lionheart that roars louder from cruelty.

A lone wolf again who no longer swears fealty.


night prowls.

darren pearson
Photographer – Darren Pearson

Sinks her teeth straight into your flesh
She knows the animal inside of you best

Drags her claws deep across your back
She feeds your soul all that it lacks

Wild eyes pierce through the dark
The beast chooses where to leave her mark

Thumps beat inside chests – war drums in tune
Feral thoughts bloom like wildflowers in June

Twist, turn and pull fistfuls of fur
Lions with manes and panthers that purr

The air is stifling and thick with rage
Time to explode the heart from its cage

These animals – they stay safely tucked away
Until the lights go out and it’s time to play

Tangled up limbs and the fiercest of howls
This is what happens when the night prowls

the feast.


Image from
Image from

I don’t desire the buttoned down business bravado at 2:00 PM.

I crave the crawling creature that crumbles at 2:00 AM.

I don’t long for eternal strolls in the sunshine of spotless minds like other girls.

I pray for a slow dance with the devil as we engulf these tired hearts in flames.

Drag me down to hell where you dwell in the darkness of your mind.

I lust for the imperfections – the markers of truth.

I yearn to trace the lines of your scars with my sketchbook fingertips.

I will sit with you at the forsaken table,

indulge on your insecurities.

I will take second helpings,

feast on your flaws.

To quench this insatiable thirst,

pour your past unto me.

I shall eat until I am full.

I shall drink until I am drunk.

And I shall love you still.

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