(from In the Shadow of my Pen :A Collection of Poetry and Prose)
My pen is a loaded revolver.
My words are the bullets from my soul.
One by one, I extract the bullets from the wreckage.
As I write, the splinters burn my skin as they fly, flicker and spark.
My words are sometimes unaccustomed to the light, much preferring the dark.
As I dive deeper into this cavernous hole, I see empty bullet shells lying all around.
I know then, I can lay my pen down.
This chapter of my story has reached its end.
But I always know when I need to reload my revolver again.
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