Language, And I'm the Messenger

Language belongs to us. It always has.
They can't handle it.
Can't take it away; no, they can't touch
They can't manage it.
It's not manageable. Not tangible.
So don't try to man handle it.
Persuade it to cater to your whims; nah, we're not havin it.
See, every word you've ever read belongs to me,myself,and I.
My trilogy of infamy won't let language go -won't let her die.
We let you borrow it, breathe it. Now exhale - your permit to write has been denied.
See, I sleep with it, go deep with it, like a fantasy I've always dreamed.
Full of passion and promise; letters flowing together so clean.
Language belongs to us. It always has.
Tells me what to write - I tell the world, present and past.
I'm the messenger, translating a muddled alphabet soup into something the masses can feast on. My pen forces feeds them. Shit, its like they've never eaten, the way my pen keeps them.I feel blessed. To be this messenger and chosen with few rest.
I'm full and literate - in love with language like the true gift she is. She makes me feel

... mischievous; hiding secrets and undeciphered thoughts yet to be formally introduced to my pen. They are deep from within. Language is our liaison. We rendezvous whenever she calls. And I'm happy to take part in her ploy. I'm the messenger.
Language, what should I write for the world today?