The pen drifts across the paper
Effortlessly
As if on an endless journey
And I see poetry
Everywhere
I'm OCD
about words
Black on white
Black on yellow
Black on lines
My spare time is wasted
I kiss ink
I kiss boys
I'm a whore.
Who knew?
And then there are the stormy Sundays
Where the grey clouds roll in
Where the lightning stops
And forms electric rain clouds
At my fingertips
Mama said I'd always be in trouble
And mama was right
Because whenever the urge hits me
I go straight for the hit
I go straight for the punch
Write about it
They told me
And I did
But love turned me into a poet
And darkness became art
Ink was all I knew,
Everywhere I went
Words lingered
Words linger
And I write.
