Existential Spontaneity #1

 
 
in my back pocket
Prometheus
burns like a book of matches
while
blank sheets of paper
scream silently for words
of poetry
 
a pen
a pen
 
my sanity for a pen
 
so who the fuck
upset Apollo
&
his nine whores?
 
a pen
a pen
 
before it all ends
 
I wonder
is this blood
or
just red ink
that gushes from my mouth?
 
&
let not this whore-bitch
called  
R-E-A-S-O-N
block the path of intuition
 
a pen
a pen
 
so  
I can paint a thousand words  
 
&
sacrafice another virgin
to the Gods