Tags

, ,

my weapon of choice
is a pen.
so much damage and noise
therein.
i undo those, my foes
swallowed,
by the waves of my ink
ocean.

my sharpened nib scratches
its place,
defaces pages, replaces
the blanks
with rage, war waged,
unrestrained
unmerciful against any
force faced.

my fingers tap lightly
on the desk,
as i wait patient for thoughts
to wrest
from out of the grip of my head’s
recess
to implant them elsewhere to infect,
to infest.

-m.p. 03/02/2015

Advertisements