my hand drawn to the pen and the pen to page
like the need to breath
like the need to struggle to better my lot in life
i am drawn to the desire to speak with this ink on page
it fills my dreams with visions and
leaves me with burning desires
to lend my hand to the struggle against the darkness rising
its pushes and pulls upon my soul
as it wrestles these words from my heart
and strikes them upon the page
like hammer striking stone

and the fire of these words consumes me
with the stretching and longings
with the need to speak what they say and
to find  any ear to listen

like a bargain with the devil himself
i cannot set the task aside
cannot leave the words unspoken
like addictions it would leave me starving
and un-mourned in the dark gutter
so its face see the light of day
so its truth both beautiful and bitter not be known

listen you now to these things
know that its no passing whim
know that its the death of me
with my devoted love to the last letter
for this thing is a dark beauty
it will repay your devotion tenfold
with joy or pain
and thats the bargain i made with
the devils of the dictionary
with the disciples of ink