Pen
I find it impossible to stay away
For there it stays drawing me nearer
And I wonder what is happening
With its inky walls paving rivers
Down a soul
I wait and linger
I stare at its shell of cold metal
And imagine its inner workings
Little creatures with inky blood
Killing themselves each time I write
I write in murder
I write in songs
This demonic beast with blood in its course
As if something Hell would want
And Heaven demands
I wonder what has stained the inner walls
Of my pen