Smeared Black Ink
Thursday, July 8th, 2004write it off.
in mysterious ways
it makes me think.
of what’s been tried,
and what has laid here.
funerals are for the living
it’s nearly too dark to see.
swim in circles of air.
touch my face in a sad way.
illustrate my meaning
now, then, and there.
seperate it out,
slice into it,
soak slowly and wait,
suck it in.
let it permeate and
drift out of your pores.
cry for its departure.
place it in your heart,
melt off its hurt.
cradle everything lovingly,
look forward.
smile,
ever so slightly.
peal it on,
tear it in,
feel it simmer,
right in the middle
of it all.
it lingers, it stays.
absorb it and
continue.