you can do it:

I told him as soon as I wrote it.
he didn't care.

I cling tightly to my blanket. Its down softness can't wrap around me any tighter. My mind won't stop. Dreams nip at my scalp. My brain is coaxing my eyes to roll back into these thoughts of daydreams turned vivid. I dream technicolor gore. With a bitchin soundtrack exploding in my ears.

I daydream to much & my nightmares haunt me all day. I like to dance for hours on end all alone. Elegant dos. Evident donts. Everything we think of. Its hard to say. Its hard to see. I'm blisteringly lovestoned off this hit. Ill never say we did. Ill never say we didn't. & Ill damn never quit. Get chills. Get shakes. Got burns. Got desires. Your lying cold if you say you don't tingle. I'm sighing heavily as we mix & mingle. Slick ritzy suited hims. Scantily clad missuses. Its birth & murder. Everyone's got one. Mines going to be black & white. Technicolor climaxing. Shadows molesting the gore & thick pooled blood under my sneakers. Pitiful sanity.

I'm going to write. A book. A letter. A movie. A note. A screenplay. Something. It won't be a happy story, with nauseating morals, a healing vision, or a sublime dream imprinted on the consciousness of an audience longing to heal their broken hearts damaged with reality. Searching for escape in the pages of another's words or in the darkness of a theater. It wont be hollywood, with spun platinum sugar clouds, like the wigs of starlets & sky's dyed the color of laundered-to-perfection jeans. It won't be decorated with emerald citadels, lost Utopian horizons, swank palmy night clubs filled with style & oozing champagne & bare skinned beauties. No gun-toting cowboys inhabiting & protecting ghost towns with their petticoat whores. Flowers won't threaten to grow over the doors & windows of swiss chalets, english tudor manors, or spanish villas, the way it happened to sleeping beauty's castle. My story will drip like blood & make them writhe in their 8 dollar seats. I'm secretly collecting razorblades in an asylum & hiding them under my tongue to carve the words I can only write onto my body. Line up kids. This shits bound to be addicting. Don't blink, kids. You can't miss this.