boyfulani

Joyfully, i settle to write. No pen can take the strain of this.
Reckless letters are careering over the paper, the words echo in my soul.
Sentenced into solitary confinement inside my own skin, i dare into the heavy shadows.
A jolly stream of thought warms up to me, like chocolate on tongue and together, we flow in one unstoppable direction; the paper is screaming for it,heaving and seething with every stroke, the tip of the nib is hitting high crescendos, the friction beats fiction out of my story…then; there is a rustle at the door.
I envision the sonnet, fish for my spear…and shake as i pray to the Pale Galilean, for indeed, ”The hour is nigh, when my creditors will prove to be my predators’

*re-posted from my archives today. Was feeling like ‘it’!