Compelling Inspiration

Can I force these words to flow?

Chilled lava, hardened glass.

Swigging at the verbal flask,

But these slurs pour forth slowly.

These ideas hide under the surface;

Shape-shift, germinate.

I can neither expel, nor exterminate,

When I can’t determine their purpose.

I wait for the tremors before I delve,

Dousing them with words

So that when they emerge

They can explain themselves.