Monday, August 22, 2011

night 4

the tattoo ink was a nice cover up
and dripped down my side as he
fumbled through his belt in a hush

he poured the tattoo ink and said
hey. do a good job at making this
more meaningful than it is.

as usual, the tattoo ink gave a half smile
and scoffed. whatever man, he says
just don't drag me into this fucking mess

you're the fucking mess! i hate whispered
but the words were slurred and thick
and i know
the tattoo ink will never take you seriously
with tears in your eyes.

so i lowered them. and ran my fingers
through the warm, wet, black puddles.

No comments:

Post a Comment