Answer:
You write on me and secrets I can keep. In places never seen. I spin like a top. Though stiff as a board I'm often described like a mop.
Though I am dark Adam married me.
My first is high my second damp my whole a tie a writer's cramp.
You buy me to eat, but never eat me. What am I?
I begin your sentences. What am I?
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.