I Am

I am the builder of books the pillager of paragraphs the stalker of sentences like a serial killer i stock my next victim named inspiration once it is caught I suck the life-force out of it like a vampire, I usually compost at night the darkness my passion the madness my rhyme Narcissistic notes, my rhythm I view those around me like a stalker, in a creative carnal desire, writing them, molding, creating, using them in tales told, then throwing them Away Away, as quickly as my pen dashes, dangerously across the page to create, the Genesis of this poem the Beginning, the End