INK PIECE

no matter how badly it hurts no matter how much it kills. the beauty is worth the pain.

the ink is flowing from my pen again, this time it's bleeding red.....

 

people
 leave
  pieces
   everywhere
i leave my stain on them
they leave their stains on me

 

people
they pass in
 they pass through
  they pass out

 

some pull their flesh back for all to see
and others,
 they rip the flesh right off of me

 

people give
 open & unlock
   allowing me to taste their salty skin
and in return
i let them sink their teeth deep within

 

it's a wonderous thing.

 

people
 they pass in
  they pass through
   they pass out

 

it happens slow, it happens quick
needles and thread
sewing us together
our insides we pour
our chords we tangle and twist
the weaving and the grafting of
them & me

of "us"

until one decides to sever...

 

let it begin
 this open heart surgery
where breathing turns to gasping

and my fingers they are gripping

a knee-jerk reaction to the fact that i am losing.

then everything goes black

my body limp

the blood it turns

 from warm to cold.

 we flatline
  our friendship sounds a piercing steady beep

 

people
 they pass in
  they pass through
   they pass out

 

withdrawl is like the pain,
which is inevitable.
excruciating, agonizing
searing, harrowing
grueling, consuming

 

consuming, so consuming
 
i love the way it works
i hate the way it hurts

 

people
they leave and they come back
 they leave and never return
it's the latter that i choke on
those ones who leave without a word

 

looking up.
i see the white lights that litter a clear night sky
each star represents a bullet i've been shot with.
take it out and stitch me up
cause i'm going out to battle again
and again
and again.
till i'm riddled with holes.

Reviews

[Spoken]

Very passionate beautiful peice. We cannot take the good without the bad. So the only question left, is the good worth the bad? Makes me think of the nomads.. always roaming, constantly moving, 'passing through' to get what they need.. leaving a trail of disturbance on the ground, scars to remind us they were there once. Great piece.