Writing, typing, spelling, and looking
causes my fetish for words to continue...
but not with whips or chains or leather,
this word fetish I have is hidden for it must be a sin
dancing across the paper with nasty ink and enjoying my burning from this fetish...
I know it's wrong to have this kind of fetish and feel at home and go naked with words
knowing too that it isn't healthy for my soul.
So I have yet found a TheRapist to treat my condition,
(Yet one time I thought I could quit, just cold-turkey and survive.)
Didn't work though. It probably will be the end of me after all...
In some dark room I'll be found alone pale from the fetish that caused my secret demise
Knowing how amorous I am about my fetish of words,
my computer screen will have a screwicide note typed just for the finality...the last word I'll love.
I need to find a kind of Nicorette Patch© to quench my desires for words.
Too bad there aren't such things yet... so I'll leave the rest to whomever,