writing is 1
Writing is a thousand heated hearths—
fires full of fervid desperation to burn,
all cramped and smothered
beneath a bricked ceiling of rules and words.
The only vent for these prisoners?
A microscopic chimney
where traffic jams occur,
and less than half of what lies within
survives the purge.
Most never escape the hot prison hell,
never metamorphosize into anything else.
Instead, they remain—
a roaring sensation
that will eventually tire
and go out.