Ink

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

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s