INK

In the o’clock
When pale moons fade
From my leaping sight
When undressed words wonder
In the dawn of bleeding thoughts
Solace I find buried in ink


Through the window pane
Of my mind is a world
Pasted with purple grapes
Composed of
Soft succulent lips
That barely touched
My freshly shaved
Chiseled cheek bones
And a face I couldn’t
Make out
In yesterday’s dream



Particles of life
The fuel of my undying muse
In this blissful matrimony
As with pen and paper
Meaning I find
In a crown invisible to many



Like an artist silently
Drowning in his unmatched
Insanity
I stroke with words
Upon a can verse of minds
While the apron of my stained
Conscience
Bears witness to
The birth of another star
Dancing in the realm