Run it round & start pressing
Lift up, crack the paper
But not keenly,
Just a little for a long time.
Start later,
It’s not dark it’s just at the end
Where the tip lilts,
You
Wait
Shift left up but come back down.
Rise up higher & perceive the field.
Flame the page & the chair sets fire,
Giving life to scratches.
It’s morning but a dark one,
Time submerges
Your red
& still the night dawns.
Croak the pen, harshly,
Drop the paper with ice
Repeat
Drop the pen with ice & soon rectify a falsity.
Anonymous
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