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.

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