Fuel

"The poem will not be denied; to refuse to write it would be greater torture. It tears its way out of the brain, splintering and breaking its passage, and leaves that organ in the state of a jelly-fish when the task is done."
-May Sarton

Sometimes I feel like writing is something I do in my sleep, with each breath, each touch. I think that I should just use my skin as a tablet, thick black strokes, curved words imprinted on white. Would that make my words breathe more? Live more in this world, give them feet to walk around in? Do they get lonely and restless sitting in my books, hidden away in my bedroom, not allowed to see the moon smiling sad and cockeyed in the sky?