Blood and Ink

A dark reflection on writing and the page.

 

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.

 

Reviews

[Bud]

A voice...so many voices go unheard...sad and dark piece. Outstanding work of art, my friend! Keep up the great work!

I like how you're saying "what I should have been" and "what I should have felt". People, presumably parents, have an expectation of their children. Morals are made by those who have no right to establish what is right and what is wrong.

Very nice structure: it seems as though it was written this way to show that you're thinking. Scattered thoughts and emotions.

[Bran the Broken]

The images are dark and tortured and tension-wound, very skillfully illustrative of one aspect of writing, and very artfully portrayed as something that would seem to be wholly disconnected--to all but writers. Good piece.

[Donald Meikle]

I guess there's days I've felt like that. My ancestry won't allow too many.

[.]

Beautiful .. i loved the images in it

"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."