The Pen Poem

She is my temptress

My Partner In Mischief's Prison

When I grab her I'm at it like a bad habit

And i feel like I'm flying with high impossibilities

Like

A matador on the back of a gryffin doing splits

Or cooking biscuits with Martha Stewart in the kitchen

While Peter.Parker does the dishes

And I say all of this to say that

My pen is my mistress

The slender body and a sharp head

She will never miss the point

She gets it

And she dispenses it to everything she touches

And she places it into permanent history so i'll never forget it

And if I ever do

I will know something's missing

I will long for her

I will reach for.her every time a thought comes to visit

Because

She is my bestfriend

And my temptress

She teases me

Letting me know I need her to keep peace

And she is right

So I

Sneak a quickie in with her every chance I get

Gracefully working her body

And her body fitting perfectly in my hand

My largest love affair

My pen

She is my addiction

Holding me captive

Apathy when she's missing

Actually actively captivating my senses

And I thrive while I have her arousing my system

She knows without her assistance my convictions would leave me

Imprisoned in my own thoughts

She is my siren

My succubus

My pen

I keep her close

Reaching for her

Every time the cravings come

Increasing like the anxiety

That fills my mind

She reminds me of calm

And I hold onto her tightly

My nimble fingers stroking her smooth body until her midnight black ink leaks

Embedding these sheets with my

Deepest thoughts

I have

Secrets

Darker than my grandfather's skin

But your ink is sin

So with it I write scarlet letters

Addressed to former selves

And she's still sharp so

I can compress a thousand words into an image

Emptying her cartridge

Then refill her with my insecurities

In the form of sentences

Iambic pentameters

Penning pages of epic poetry

Following my odyssey of pent up emotion

Una pintura,

En mi cabeza

Feels like a Van Gogh exploding

Slowly

She is the paintbrush that painted Mona Lisa

She is the reason I'm a poet

I've become devoted to her

My temptress,

My pen

Like

An angel sent from heaven

Guiding my hand

Scripting

Fatidic messages

Written

In calligraphy using the gentle brush of my breath against her neck

Gripping

She takes pleasure in plucking

The thoughts

Like fruit from my tongue

Consuming

She hungers trailing a line

She will never get through

Run on sentences

We run on sentences

Bachata on images

Pen and man

What incredible penmanship

And she finds my madness genuinely interesting

So that every word transmitted betwixt us

Is fitted with her subscription

Which begs from me a reoccurring deliverance so you can imagine how

Quickly a quick fix can be lengthened

Significantly

I didn't fall for you deliberately

I deliberated and debated

And concentrated and over complicated

And never understood

But always overstated

Because my mind is always racing with thoughts

Which thoughts?

Wild thoughts which you've taken and displaced them in these pages

And I'm so sorry

I'm sorry that most days you lay there untouched because

My hands are shaking

Brain just isn't translating

Good today

I'm so sorry

You have to wait for me to be creative

But art only makes sense when it does

And when it does

The beauty makes it worth it

Doesn't it

And

Haven't you --

Haven't you waited up all night to see a sunrise?

Because that's what we can be

A sunrise

Not descending into darkness but ascending from the sable skies of my mind into enlightenment

And

Wouldn't you--

Wouldn't you liken it to magical hallucinations fashioned into masterpieces to be debated through the ages

Rumors and interpretation

Translations of original text

My pen couldn't you --

Couldn't you say there is something biblical in the way

We lay verse and allegory like

Brick and morter

Aren't we--

Aren't we tied together in every universe like rick and morty

Artist and pen

Like man and wife

And even if I only had my left hand left I'd write

Holy scripture

I'd write

nature herself into existence

if I'm to be frank

Oceans deepen when i increase the flow of doctrine funneling through you

Letting them drip into you

Afraid that I would lose them forever

But you were impressing them into permanence

And now, that I know you can make sense

Of this mental maze

I spend every second yearning to press my palm against you wrapping my fingers around your side so I can write therapeutic journal into gentle gaze

Pen and poet perfect relationship

A track and ball

Point

Pen

The way you keep me in place

I couldn't begin to explain