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The need returns.
How simply she slips back under the fingernails
And dances with flourishing shutters and ripe trains of silk.
A single drop was all she needed,
With her visceral hedonism and need for nudity,
She crawls back into bed with me.
Nourishes me and puts me to sleep
Once I've
Sated her.
What a terse course of action and pith she makes
In her solitary reverence.
She pulls me forward
And holds me back
Simultaneously
With a surgeon's precision
And a junkie's
Willpower.
God save the pens now that she's returned.
Soon it will be
Pens, pens everywhere
And not a
Drop of Ink.
A poem about my need to write returning. Not about a drug addiction, though I suppose it could be taken as such.
:iconcassandraandco:
CassandraAndCo Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2011  Professional Artisan Crafter
Hah, I get it now but that did seem about being a junki at first. Nice work Ken, not that I am surprised =]
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