My pen is my only salvation
I squeeze until the ink’s nerves burst
with enough energy to leave the tip of it
and from there my pen skates like silver blades on ice
because the heat touching is causing such great force
just enough to melt away the cold but just enough solidity for my pen to do it’s thing
and it does it for me because when my legs and arms get weary and I feel that I’ve
run out of options, I can always depend on my pen to heat things up just enough
to ignite some gas for me and that’s what I call
holding on and not giving up
holding on to what and giving up on what?
I don’t know so I imagine hanging on the edges of my notebook and the grip around my pen.
I have nothing left in me but a prayer
by Image by Deanna Wardin @ Tattoo Boogaloo
Tattoo Boogaloo 528 Green St. San Francisco, CA 94133 (415) 391-1053