I ran out of ink but I kept writing on
anyway. Any way you look at it
the fringe may fade, but you read on;
you understand the pain passing
from pen to paper in mild madness
To boot it out of houses into hushed
minds until daybreak and all awaken
in sudden, war-torn moments-
ones of stillness and silence lost
in night creatures called humans.
We believe we are awake yet remain
lost in non-flowing ballpoint pens
only black sludge glowing, planning
an unwarranted escape plan out
of words clutching, hoping, waiting.
January 12, 2013