Drunk Off the Ink Inside the Pen

there is a pen. 

my pen.

it has a sense of power.

the pen which guides my cursive into print.

it brings much truth and enlightenment to the words splashing in my mind.

this pen is the key, the key to the cellar door deep within me.

take the stairs, keep the lights low, don't switch it on or the bats will scatter.

things are out of place, but the pen allows them to settle and unite.

there is a pen.

my pen.

it is filled with a fluid that could get you drunk.

drink the words which my pens spill out in front of you and don't forget.

there is little specks of my in that fluid and you will ingest them.

all the while i am slowly investing in your eyes, and minds.. to play

a soften game of connect the dots.

don't try to figure it out, but allow it to bring some truth and certainty, 

to whatever it is you are going through.

i write to you and sign these words with such faith,

because as much as someone wants to love, it is much nicer to just be.

to just be loved.

my pen promotes the good and the bad,

it has to get out from under my skin.

the slowly crawling, of long lost pen pals within.