NaPoWriMo #29

I eat poetry.
I devour words.

I do not
live and breathe it.

Fat with free verse and formals,
iambic pentameter keeping
time in my veins,
my mouth wet with confessionals,
I do not stop   will not stop

the taste of time on my tongue
it could make me immortal       perhaps

another book, another feast
it never sates.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

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