Words run through writers like water,
A chaotic mess, but with a few specs of gold,
words pump through me like blood in my veins,
But blood and water are no good if they run dry or remain stagnate,
When I am running short on words I like to got for a long walk,
fire up my internal engine, pump the blood again,
until I return with a flow of words ready to pour out onto the page.
BENT ON LOVE 