A Little on the Writer

Residing at my make shift desk,
I strive for such perfection.
I live my life accordingly,
struggling with my addiction to paper.

I'm drawn to its white emptiness,
spending time on my illusions.
I transform my thoughts into words,
trading ink for my creations.

It's the five common senses,
that enhance my imagination.
Sometimes I sit forgetting that,
I am enclosed by the walls of my basement.

I have no concern of the time it takes,
so long as I can entice my readers.
It all comes back to the brain I possess,
where dreams become my reality.

Always starting at the beginning,
which leaves me lost until the end.
Now I am in love with my great sickness,
of giving birth to new ideas.

I tend to forget that I have a life,
treating each day as my new story.

So remember when you sit to write,
these words I have expressed,
because you could be the next one trapped,
in a writer's life of creativity.

So tread lightly on your paper,
while walking heavily in your dreams.
For me this is what it means to be,
lost in a writer's prestige.