To sit and write, to
have the ink, flow in
your brain, this is
sometimes easy but
nevertheless, one
has their needs.

I am not like you.
I have my needs
and am immortal
you are surprised I know
this is not what you expected.

It is unusual
for a poet of my
calibre to have
such sharp teeth
that glow bright white
in the dark.

I am feeling very dry
my poetry crackles off the page.
my skin is peeling
my toenails are yellow and curled
I have run out of chapstick.

How can I write?
I go in the night
black diamond wings.
Emerald stockings I
have special vision
I can see the good few.

She is walking on the
path in the dark as there
is a blackout on campus
a bomb threat which is fake
(I called it in)
and she is alone so
I shape shift to black panther
to hide along that path.

The young one is not
beautiful she is a poet
she has been at library
writing writing writing
the flow of her ink.

And she comes with her
book bag so full she
walks lopsided and slow
I ready myself and leap
quickly locate the carotid
easily. easy to locate...

My life is very difficult
and sad but I write my poems
hoping to be noticed by
the guy who is an ink vampire
too, but he doesn't know I know-
yet. We do have second sight
I block his knowing.

I do anything for that ink.

I enjoyed this a lot. It makes me wonder who the narrator is.

However, I don't think you need the "o" part, unless you're making a mark on the character him or herself. This is a very intriguing story.

I changed that. Anything else? Thanks I love your new picture.