Scribbling words onto a blank page
in red ink,
Meaningless words,
Meaningless ink,
Running out,
Running through me,
Pumping through my veins
60 times a minute.
The words thump like a heartbeat,
My heartbeat,
Coded thoughts, loves, desires,
Running together, marbling,
Forming an artwork
And starting to sound poetic.
They don't rhyme, they don't
need to, so long as they keep
flowing, keep flowing,
they are my breath;
I end when they end.
That doesn't sound right,
that's not what I meant,
but it won't erase,
blood stains.
The words are running like a river,
my life is running
like a river approaching a
waterfall,
I can't stop it,
my thoughts are leaking
out of the box.
I'm water,
running through a tap
as my words
drip
drip
drip from my fingers
to cleanse your soul.
I'm a zig zag
running across a screen
glowing green,
echocardiogram, cardiogram,
echoing your wisdom
through this blood red ink.
My words are
my breath;
I end when
they
end
.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!

Click to View Author Guidance

To start things off, a poem about poems. Written a while back, performed at the Shoreditch Festival, and now kicking about on the internet. This was just me, having fun with words, really.

updated Jul 21 '09 by Safi