ink spots

I’m lost, liv’in in a haze, try’ in to find my way  
using these ink spots on my page. Amazed at the 
lyrical lengths I’ve gone to fuel my delusions of eloquence. 
Aligning lines of artistic alliterations. The rhythmic
 styling and compiling of my poetic endeavors, my lyrical 
treasures for my listening pleasure. Precisely placed phonic pearls
 in a pattern to produce poetic paragraphs, lyrical photographs.
 Cuz they say a picture is worth a thousand words, 
but I would never want my words to be contained
 by even the most extravagant of picture frames.
 They couldn’t contain my rhyme schemes,
 my poetic mind schemes and devises an escape route. 
We’ll fill the space with words and thought, it’ll
 burst at the seams, we’ll overflow into existence. It’s 
futile to resist this, I’m overpowered by words. They 
surround and hound me to be liberated lyrically. Their 
excited to be recited poetically, connected, linked in this
 microphone melody. It’s an extraordinary remedy
 to extremity the inexplicable expression exports that exploit 
my interior, to corrupt the exterior, and minimize this feeling
 that I’m inferior. But lately it hasn’t worked. 
I’m lost, try’ in to find my way, but
 these ink spots on my page, 
keep getting in the way.