To the writing bandit

Wanted: for attempting to mercilessly thrash my words into the shivering water, for trying to drown the merit of my work

Stealer of un-suspecting nouns and defenseless verbs. Snatcher of vibrant adjectives and purposeful pronouns.

You, amateur zorro, slinking into the shadows, sneaking past the tight-knit security armed with worded weapons.

The all-black get-up can only get you so far. In the flesh, you slip past in a death-like cape wrapped twice around, eyes shimmering out from its hooded mask with a penetrating brown stare, pierced dark hair curled at the ends covered by a pinched felt hat

You pretend that my words don't matter, as you casually brush them away with an apathetic glance in my direction. You shrug off the descriptive imagery that has poured out of my heart, causing a shuddering chill to run through my spine and the hairs on my forearm to stand on edge. You purse your lips at my favorite line, resulting in my furrowed brows and gaping expression, leaving a gut-wrenching emptiness to plague my insides.

A sniper of my pride. A swindler of any confidence I may have given myself. 

I am ready with words at my disposal for your forced entry into my literary realm. I am ready with colossal collisions of conjunctive phrases, with dangerous, yet dormant, dichotomous diction, with elegantly dressed elongated end-rhymes...

Criminal of catastrophic means, fugitive of furious proportions, your days are numbered. 

Author's Note

To all the critics, who don't seem to appreciate the journey of writing. It's a great, big learning process.

Reviews

[Frank F. Atanacio]

You know, this rant in a journal format is pretty good-- I like the intensity ...:) Frank