Fictional Caper
This feels too much like deja vu,
the days and nights of a biblioklept.
It’s what the book-bosomed must do,
taking in every chapter as you slept.
Being such an omnilegent person
it’s hard to run across something fresh.
Reading’s such pure introverted fun,
with each word I want gooseflesh.
I wander to each town bouquiniste
on the lookout for a page turner.
I’m hungry for a clever plot twist,
that story that’s an acid burner.
There is no place I would rather be
then inhaling the scent of this paper.
Serene and content in a lectory
escaping into a wild fictional caper.
I love to go running through my head
inside a space where I have no phobia.
While in reality I am filled with dread
suffering from debilitating abibliophobia.
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