This Visceral Ink

Ink leaks daily due to
Breath exhaling from poetic lungs.
Long as day breaks and
Moon signifies the coming of
Nocturnal movement…
Poetry will move through me.

I pen viscerally. 
These words flowing freely
From this serendipity…
The splendid inner sanctum
Found within me…
The uterine paradise where
Conception of poetess occurred
In defense of me… in prevention of
Insanity… she… will not conform
To normality… will not be hushed
By society…she screams out loud
Rather than subconsciously…
Letter after letter form
Word after word constructing
Sentence after sentence…
Spilling out fastidiously…
Despite limited education she
Works a wicked vocabulary…
Wields verbal weaponry until
Funeral processions pass by to
Signify the death of
Transgressions gone by…
Demons purged from tormented soul…
Weightlessness sets in and…with
Wings drawn in by favorite pen…
The penstress flies high…

I wear stanzas like they’re
Haut couture… lips lined
With nouns and painted in
With ruby red verbs…
Hair dyed with age defying
Alliteration…ears pierced with
Ellipsis…metaphors dangling  from each
Dot…dot…dot…
I am
Adorned by poetry…
Wear words upon my feet…
My steps documented poetically.
I write poetry because
It’s who I am…
I…eat adjectives for breakfast…
Yawn…and exhale exclamation points…
Scratch my head and
Question marks and periods
Fall vicariously to my shoulders…
Take my showers in
Heated temperatures of steaming ink…
Lathering free verse upon my flesh…
Cleansing the dirt and grime
Residually left behind by the
Unrelenting steps of Father Time…
I…kick down the walls of
Conformity’s box…throwing off the top…
Refusing to be who you
Say I should be … will
Live only according to the syntax plan
Carefully laid out by these poetic hands…

I write…
Because I have no choice…
I write…
Because life itself has a voice…

I write…
Because an empty quill
Symbolizes slow death
By way of insanity…

I write…
Because poetry
Equates life for me.