good
bad
indifferent
i go on
streak the pen
against the inflamed paper
cutting my words
from mind
to soul
into being
release the last vestiges
of emotions
in feeling
the ink runs dry
'n my mind
the tornado whirls about
crashing
every idea
i ever once coveted
into truth
into nothing more than the broken shambles
of letters burning scarlet
branded to the veins
of my existence
seep upon the paper
all that i can't utter
from my lipped callouses
read into my insides
the intrigue
that stirs me to wake
in the night
lay and ponder
every thought
emotion
captured in blue blood
the artist palette
the caged prison
of lined tyranny.
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