Imagination swallows me up.
I let it take me, no negotiations needed.
The neutral in me plays sides,
Drives me into the worlds that dwell within.
I could never get enough,
The words hug me and become me.
I am gigantic in thoughtfulness,
But there is chaos swelling to the brim.
It is superlative and I can't contain the awesome
Flow of ideas that spew from the pen.
In extreme haste, I kill and birth many beings.
I envelope them in problems and rage.
Each letter, each sentence, perfect.
In writing, I can be god.
The resurrection of characters is at my whim.
Negativity bursts forth, plots unfold.
It was entertainment in my youth,
It is happiness in my adulthood.
The life of a writer.