Creativity

By Shelley M. Latreille

The voracious entity lies dormant in its cave,
emerging eagerly whenever I wish to write.
Awakened from darkened slumber,
it tirelessly weaves and manufactures
vicious thoughts and wondrous jumbles
of words that I can allow to escape my mind
or hold hostage for another occasion.
If I choose to release some or all of the words,
I allow them to slide out and conjure,
converge, and fornicate with pen and paper.
Once the words can be comprehended by
other minds, they are shared and devoured.
The entity residing in the mind of a writer is much
like a graceful and enthusiastic serial killer.
Some words never see daylight and
are tempestuously murdered, while others
are stealthily allowed to escape and
are vicariously shared with others,
only to be slaughtered another day.
I have a venomously vengeful creature
living inside the darkest corners of my mind,
digesting and contorting my every word.
Its name is Creativity.