insatiable

my hunger for words,
like love, is insatiable,
my desire runs wild.
i can't get enough,
my nights are filled
with seducing long lines
of words, of rhymes,
of finding ways to say
what i've already said
a thousand times before.
but it doesn't matter.
i have an appetite to fill,
a thirst to quench.
my hands are full of forks
and knives, they gleam
sharply in the dull
light of my room,
i am carving my soul,
my heart and serving
it up for you, with vodka
and lime. ink runs from
my mouth. i cut a vein when
that well runs dry
and i dip my pen there.
i have to keep going.
there is no other way.