Of Writing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Poetry

Submitted: March 08, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 08, 2007

A A A

A A A


I stared at this notebook for hours
the white pages mocking me
pure and free from impressions
and ink—
free from thought

Blue lines of division
with a marginal red
Forty–two tiny holes
threaded with a metal spine
spiraling up—
and down

I've defaced you now
as you bleed black impurities
Cry
cry
cry
as I gouge the tip of the pen
into your porcelain skin—
like needles


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