My stream

It´s all over the eye.
 
Got my flexy brainveins working overtime to chip this out on paper.
 
Oh it sucks me dry, the work we do, us poets.
 
The fury of both light and dark.
The curve of some new love pop song they want to call poetry.
 
We just give it three and move on.
But really what have you to offer the world?
 
  Afraid it´s only volume;
My twisting epiphany doesn´t interest you?

My river.
My stream.
Throw junk at it if you dare.
But don´t let it run dry.