the hidden world of words

 
being a poet is about pushing boundaries
I push mine to the limit
sticking with what you know
is the difference between being at the beach
or playing in a sand box
 
at the beach the tide is going to come in
and wash everything away
writing your poems in the sand
an action in futility?
maybe to some
to me the old is washed away  
leaving room for even greater creativity
 
sometimes you ignite
others combust
but you won't know unless you try
 
people may hate me
some will love me
but I write because I must
it's my passion
my demon
the cross I bear
 
the words come and I must free them
or they will harass me until I do
flooding my mind
until it drowns in them
they clutter my thoughts
with a constant word association game
 
I see them when I sleep
how they fit together
piece by piece
letters and words in geometrical shapes
dancing a hidden dance
only I can see
 
until I release them into the world
and these haunting ghosts are freed
no longer wraiths of my imagination
 
but living
 
breathing
 
beings