The black ink falls on white paper
Like blood on a clean sheet
Dripping from slit wrists
As like the words fall from my mind
if spoken they would fall
and shatter on the wind.
Sweet wine draws them out fast
striking without thought
Black White Grey does not matter the font
Handwritten, Typed, or Spoken
Lost to the unclear either.
I cast them out for you to see
shared if thous will
released to the wilds of culture
hidden in this smaller corner I call my own
shouted at passer-by loud and proud
FUCK YOU sober thought
Listen to my words and fear
that their meaning is lost to you.
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