Words Own Me

​Words own me
I am their slave
I am powerless against them
And they won’t let me sleep
 
Sometimes they flow through me gently like a sprinkler
And stories write themselves
My characters cavort in the fine spray
And it is joyous
 
Sometimes words are a torrent, a flood
A fire hose with more force than I can handle
And I am left with the devastation of half-finished ideas
And dismembered thoughts with no structure
 
Sometimes the words won’t come
The spigot is closed
I hear my characters calling
But I can’t reach them
 
When that happens, my stories won’t tell themselves
No matter how much I want them to
It’s a desert and I’m parched
And there are no words to quench my thirst
 
Words own me
They won’t let me go
But I like it when the words come out to play