Ran Dry
The ink has ran dry.
Ball points are scratching
beneath the surface-
leaving lack luster scars.
Insignificant attempts to
leave a mark on a surface
paved with copious complexity.
"What else is there left to say?"
A dry tongue drags along the tip
of a beat up Mont Blanc-
Thirsty for energy.
The etching continues.
Barely visible.
Hardly relevant.
But, even still.
When swollen, arthritic hands hold
such might as a broken dagger.
Blood could very well still,
run.
-James Keley 2018
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