You are the thoughts that riddle me,
a cancer of the mind,
and yet you're a repository
for poetry defined.

Before the darkness swallows me
into the night's embrace,
you fill my mind with alchemy
that wears iambic face.

You twist my nightmares into words
expressed through verse and fire,
and mire my sleep in tales unheard,
whatever my desire.

When dawn awakes to rescue me
with regulated thought,
you shyly tuck your tail and flee
into reclusion bought

with wealths of words wrought from my wind,
the breath that keeps me true.
You are the urge I can't rescind;
I owe it all to you.