Words

Words demand be written. Ink begins to flow. Sentences form. Thoughts race. Like raindrops down a window. There's a lake in my mind And it's always raining. Where does the water escape? Where can words go? They flow through my veins, Like blood or poison. They sustain me Destroy me. Can I find a place to rest? Who can save me? Am I redeemable? The words flow to my fingers, Like water through the veins of a rock. I am no longer in control. Sometimes it makes sense. Sometimes I am crazy. Sometimes, the words refuse to fit. They are either territorial or They combine and the sentences form. No matter what, all I know, is that Words demand to be written, Ink begins to flow.