Rhyming.

The page quivers in silence,
Angry scratches pour in
Astounding is the way I rape defile the purity
Of the fine white planes.

These words are maudlin
Written on my body and
Angst pouring in the finer tip
Of the revolting pen.

Strangely enough
It feels like the purgatory is
Waiting for the emotions and memories
To connect midnight with desires stirred once

Yes, now, yes, now, now
The page is torn in half
And the ink congeals
On the superficial words
The ink glares back at me
Unwilling to admit the perpetration it has committed.

I stare at the paper.
Fool! Fool! Fool! Betrayer!