A girl buys a diary, she says it's for 'notes'
She buys a pen, 0.7mm nib
A few tears, now the diary's in her lap, huddled
In the corner of the stain-mottled deck
terrified of words
that cannot one day be erased.
Unexpected panic, thoughts encased in a steel sphere
diary falls to deck
frantic rummaging of drawers, through cabinets
amongst burnt orange gypsy skirts
Sharpens her quarry with a blunt utensil
On the deck again, in the corner
abstract phrases clustered in myelinated neurons
forced uncomfortably into words
(who's ever gonna read this anyway?)
words that can, now, one day be erased
but they won't be.