Tattoo

I want to be the one

who writes the letters
on the backs of paupers
playing with their spleens
and digesting gentle pores

in my madness
I will carve substratum
upon these strangers
tickling their spines
with my giant pen

the greatest sacrifice
will be the words
delicately stenciled
against the flesh
of their confinement

Vacuous

back to that moment of isolation
where darkness seeps through walls
filling voided air
with all the sadness of the world

there I sleep undone
in my dream kingdom

visions tiptoe across the page
as I turn in in gentle rage
drooling upon
the feathers of my discontent