Words. They won't stop
and I'm feeling nauseous because
the words won't  stop
and my brain will not let me be until I drain it of every drop of thought, squeezed from exhausted me and they are spilled upon the pages like a crime scene and
they will not stop
until all the wrongs become right and all the ink in my veins bleeds dry.
Words. They won't stop.
I feel as though they will crawl their way up my throat and scatter themselves carelessly upon the pages if I do not write them fast enough. They haunt me with their beauty and will consume me if I let them, swallow me within their inky depths and block out the sunlight. Words. They just won't stop.