I write my lines in a corner of this dimly lit bar,
unnoticed.
People float around me like fireflies,
little sparks in the darkness
unaware of their own illumination.
I take every ember
and stoke a fire that holds me over,
for the night.
I don't need permission,
to perpetuate my own existence.
I trade what little I know freely.
Only hoping for inspiration,
one more poem,
one more line,
just one more word.
If you drop it I'll pick it up,
no need to feel indebted.
For every word I leave I know,
the world is better than when I met it.