Drawing A Blank

Drawing a blank, I want to blame it on my pen but it's my mind that's
out of ink. I stare at the empty pages wondering what kind of magical
words I can fill them with, thinking of the deranged thoughts this mad
man can place in this pad so these actions can escape my mind and give
me moments of clarity. I know I need to let them out before the
monster inside escapes and carries them out. These are truly the dark
ages for my imperfect yet persilety planing evil mind. As I extract
these words to paper. In one hand I hold a pen and in the other I hold
my favorite toy pokey. My 6 inch blade that pierces skin on contact,
that has cut my skin dozens of times. Staring at them both trying to
figure out which shall be my instrument of art for the day. Will I
paint the paper blue with ink or will I paint the walls red with blood.