I know of nothing more gratifying than the artistry of steering a pen when my throat hitches
My tongue fails my lips stumble over thoughts, but then
Here sprawls that gleeful dominance I used to feel
Immersed inside all those overdue paperbacks,
Performing tragedies to my bathroom walls in cargo slacks thereafter -
Only now this proves as a more effective way of talking to myself.
As regretfully delicate as I tend to be in this world
I've the privilege to bathe in the narcissism of my written words
As if I am the force of gods instead of the embodiment of a bumbling fool,
And now because of this I will continue to rejoice in the company of those
Phenomenons like myself with their own faithful notebooks
And writing tools.