My Confession.

My obsession is poetry, it seeps through every pore of my body. I can taste it. I eat sleep and drink poetry. I breathe my soul into every poem and lay it down for all the world to see. All I ask for is a bit of recognition from time to time. Just the occasional shiny trophy on my page, that’s not too much to ask for is it ?
        Yet, nothing, not one trophy have I ever received. I read the winning entries, they are always vastly inferior to mine. It made me so angry. I could feel the blood of injustice pulsing round inside me. So I decided to do something about it.
      Do you remember RhapsodyAngel ?  She used to win contest after contest. I decided to confront her and ask her how she managed to cheat her way to so many winning entries. I tracked her down on the internet, it’s really very easy. I went to see her. She was older than I expected and lived alone in a large house. When I explained, quite reasonably I thought, why I was there, she laughed at me.  I didn’t like the sound of that mocking laughter. I had noticed a bronze bust of Shakespeare in the room, on a table. Before I realised my fingers had closed round it and I hit her so hard the side of her face caved in. She stopped laughing. Did you know if you hit somebody really hard with a bludgeon it leaves imprints in the crushed skull ? I could clearly see Shakespear's face imprinted along the lines of the bone which was sticking out. Then the blood started. It forms little crimson pools in the depressions of the skull. They slowly fill then start to trickle to the floor. They quickly gather pace and then the gushing starts. Little red fountains. I left her where he lay. She didn’t win any more competitions, that made me smile.
      I have a passion for sonnets. I'm really good at them but a member called QuillerMemorandum won everytime. I decided to feed him with sonnets until he choked on them. I waited until he was alone,one night, then knocked him unconscious and tied him to a chair. When he woke up, I took a small piece of parchment with the word sonnet, neatly, written on it and forced it into his mouth. I told him to swallow it, he wouldn’t at first but after I hit him a couple of times he was quite compliant. I forced more pieces aof parchment into his stupid mouth. They were bigger each time. I could see he was struggling. That made me happy. So I forced more into his mouth. He slowly started turning red and started to gag.  He tried to clear the parchment, but I took a paper knife and forced it deeper into his throat. Have you ever seen somebodies eyes bulge ?  The little veins start to expand. The eyeballs stick out and look like they are about to pop. Then the veins burst and the eye fills with blood. Tears of blood flowed down his stupid face. Eventually he stopped choking and went quiet.I guess  he wont forget the taste of sonnets or maybe he will as he died without ever apologising
      My favourite however was my stiletto quill. I added real peacock feathers. It looked so genuine I decided to write a poem with it. BoredoftheBard an ex member read my poem. He had a few problems as I wrote it on his chest. Stilettoes cut so easily his skin parted without effort. He screamed quite a bit, which was annoying becuse it distracted me, as I deeply etched the words.  The blood kept obscuring the verse, but I wiped the blood away.  With a flourish I added the final full stop, the stiletto sank in so easily, so that he wouldn’t forget my poem I drilled the full stop straight through his heart.  It  stuck out of his back which I hadn’t intended and made a bit of a mess.The finished poem was a work of beauty.  He carried it with him to his grave, I guess he can still read it through the maggots..
    I'm working on a variation of ' Should I compare thee to a summers day ' at the moment.I intend to make it a very hot summer. I will burn the words into somebodies face as it is such a short write. As yet I’m not sure who the recipient will be.
      Any suggestions ?