My Delirious Quill

A hydrophilic pen I own
I like to call it the fountain pen
It thrives on water
That flows from my eyes
As my eyes overflow
My pen begins to glow
Lubricating its nib with
The acqueous transparent fluid
That my eyes oft seem to produce
The nib of my inebrieted pen
Intoxicates itself from the
Reservoir of my eyes, refilling
Not needing an eyedropper
A full ink cartridge
Drunk on its own success
Resisting my censorship
An incorrigibly glib tongue
Infatuated with the sense
Of freedom to express itself
A quill that sometimes goes berseck
The need to contain a pen gone bold
my fingers tremble as they hold
This tool that is mightier than a sword.

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