Rhyme appeal

Not being frugal with my words.
Pumping smoke on my adjective hive.
Each page a beach, I´m a tidal verse.
Metaphor cheaky.
From the ballpoint heating
to the key tap creaking.
Bathe between these lines and get a feel.
Poets read it like a soul contract, it´s a deal.
Each burdened spirit makes a savoury meal.
Unlike my cuisine, spicy and mean, heat sealed.
Literally my literature, the will to want to steal...
My very words.
For the round pure magic, rocking in my rhyme appeal...
lucky few have heard.