The memoirs of a diary

Tues 6th

Some f****r with a quill just attacked me, and tattoo*d his porno mouth poems upon my skin in blood and ink

Wed 7th

Another day of rape and verbal abuse scrawled across  my soul and me,

Thurs 8th

Fucked again by the poets pen, rammed up my raw ragged a*s again

Fri 9th

Bleeding

sat 10th

Peace at last, as the writer who writes stuff, goes out for the night and leaves me be, a slight reprieve from his filthy fingers, his filthy love,, but 4.00 a.m. in the morning dragged out of bed, screaming, as the madman with a pen f***s me in the face again and again

Sun 11th

Praying,

and plotting

Mon 12th

The dirty b*****d hasn't touched me today, ha, is it remorse, is it guilt, or just nothing much to say.

Tues 13th

Tossed aside, untouched, I imagine him wank out words in some other's notepad, p***y, c**t

Wed 14th

I know that prick is writing somewhere else

Thurs 15th

Come back and f**k me, you useless piece of s**t, spit in my a*****e and ram your papermate home

Fri 16th

Tie me up and spank me and piss your dirty poems into my mouth and s**t your syntax on my tits and soul,

Sat 17th

Rape me now, you cocksucker or I will kill you in yer sleep

Sun 18th

 

Reviews

[Eilis]

As a wise poet once said to me: wow, wtf, haha. This diary doesn't know its own mind, or maybe it's that thing where you hate someone until they start to lose interest and then you feel like you've been jipped because you liked the attention --even if you weren't really digging the method and madness.

I actually love this. What does the other half of our process feel. We do use the word and the tools quite freely to satisfy our own soul-yearnings and I suppose there is something inherently selfish in that. I like the perspective because it leaves the writer completely outside of the scene, and he is almost like a silent force-- as natural as the earth's forces themselves-- acting on things outside of self that seem maybe free from the feelings of the animate, but then, maybe the medium takes on bits of the soul as well.

Your diary is a bit of a potty-mouth. And maybe it needs to seek some professional help to figure out why it craves such graphic abuse. But the word is powerful and can do mighty strange things to us. *Wtf, indeed,* she says inching backwards out of the room. A little scared to take my eyes off that mad book. Haha.

[gram linski]

haha, you are one sick puppy, Eilis, the only other person to review this was some mad Check f****r and he blocked me shortly afterwards, not sure why the diary is so vulgar, but you are right about trying to express the other side of the process, there was also that thing about the way it was treated was to it some kind of love and needed that same treatment to think that was what love was, not knowing different, or something like that, wtf indeed glad you enjoyed, there was meant to be a bit of humour underneath the profanity and violence, always appreciate your insightful and humourous reviews, thanks again