Ink and lead
I’ve bled
forced on rubber
wet and cold
bled on stainless steel
of a sharpened blade
press and hold
tiny incisions
as though they were never made
wait
woah
woe is me.
wound tight
would I not keep swimming
when it hurts to breathe
but even worse
to sleep
nightmares address my soul’s unrest
and it hurts to be
and for the first time
it hurts to see your mother cry
broken up about the who
the what
the how
the why
why didn’t I tell her sooner
I’m doomed
in loneliness we bloomed
now light has been shed
on darkness and gloom
silence and isolation
secrecy my tomb
a breeding ground
for grave depression
where the some of my parts don’t make me whole
held together by tape and glue
made to choose
naked or comfortable
weary or wonderful
lead and wood weight
weighing me down
no tea could calm
no soothing balm
but ink on webpages
black ink on my skin
red ink in Good News
I can’t stand to be naked
I can’t sit in your view
but I’ll lay down to bleed
like when I was dead
dying
hoping to die
since then I’ve only bled
ink and lead