Ink

Whirl me around in this time, this space
And promise me we’ll never leave this place. 

Bonnie, it is true
I came for you
When the mania took me by surprise.
Fountain pen will write these words as my energy does rise. 

Drum, drum of my heartbeat,
I can’t sit still upon this seat. 
The poem’s jumbled, vision blurred.
I’d revise it if I could make out a word. 

I want to drive with Humbert in a beaten up car
And go to places strange and far. 
I’d let him do just as he pleased
But I don’t think his type is me. 

I am cancer, I am death
Breathing in these hurried breaths
While I write hate notes and call it journaling
Because Bonnie’s really just a thing;
An object that I can put my pen to
And someday later bid adieu. 

Stand near, save me, Bonnie, do
Because everyday I write in you.
But you’re so silent, what is this ink that’s spilled?
I’ll tear you up and have you killed!

angerangstanxietyconflictdarkrhyme

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