Frustrated

I want to write and can't.
Creativity blocked, need stifled, teeth aching from relentless grinding.

The Predator courses under my skin, boiling with the need to escape and flee, escape and fight, but all there is to fight are phantoms of my own fears, and shadows of angry regret.

Broken promises swirl like smoke and shadows, oblivious to claws and teeth, trailing mocking laughter like nails on a chalkboard while the predator screams in rage.

I want to claw you until you bleed, fight you until our bodies are slick with sweat, bite you until the warmth of copper fills my mouth.
I want to hurt you until the hurting turns to sex and to tears.