Licorice puddles fluidly stack
filling the vile:
ball on point.


Crunched upwards, 
Twitches from my forefinger
And thumb,
Like bent toothpicks
Connected by limbic wires
To vague shapes morphing,
In a hesitant brain.


Like a pulsing marionette
Equipped with circulating strings,
make a puppet of the pen.