Messed up poet

A thousand thoughts well up,
Like water from a fresh dug hole,
Deep in the darkened earth,
And memories like twists of pain,
Clasp my fingers round the Pen,
Which only laughs,
In half said phrases.
All the while Paper watches,
For confession.
Conspiracy tried,
To place me
On the stand,
All my past life,
And what i am,
When last i stopped,
And turned to leave.