Black Ink
Our ten years of
billion litres of ink and shifting mind are packed in one convenient box of
books
Wondering if someone
else shed tears for the commemoration, I caress the clean cover and wait for a
reply
But not even one
returns
Pitying oneself for
the ignorant of this dimension, I stare blankly at shells wavering with
soulless thought
It’s in the thin
layers of watercolors that I find a place I belong
Teal eyes, green
hair, painted skin
It’s in the clicking
black blood that I hide myself within
Music: CoMa - I Monster
.Blambodee.
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