Blood and Ink upon the Page

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A free-verse poem. A dark perspective on writing and the page. No rhyme. Metered rhythm.

Submitted: November 21, 2008

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Submitted: November 21, 2008

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Pushing violently against the patterned walls

Of what I should have been
Spurred on by voices screaming down the crowded
Corridors of darkened thought
Until at last I concede with, a heavy breath
And softly slide the twisted clip
Of ink into my waiting gun, a child’s hand

Pushing violently against the ordered walls

Of what I should have felt
This ache so dulled by pretty pills of hatred
Cynical and coldly
Longing for the safety off. Now it’s chambered

Craving…

…the spaces white: a cloudy mirror. I take aim
At a faulty imitation of
My self, arms screwed into the page
Coldly kiss the silhouette of living
Death “good bye” until we kill again
“Bang”
“Bang”
“Bang”
Finally I’m heard no more.


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