deepundergroundpoetry.com

Quicksilver Infections

 

breathing is an addiction I cannot quit


I breathe in thoughts and exhale ink,
poured into glorious words, quicksilver flowing
within the shapes of ideas, on clear white pages.


Some nights there is a stampede in my mind,
when the mercury overflows. I release it with a nick
to my wrist with the sharp end of my quill.


It spills faster and stronger and I watch it spread,
a disease to infect the minds of passing innocents.
Please, read me, soak it up through unwitting eyes.


The fever to write is now in your veins, your lungs.
Don't bother doc, save your needles.
There is no cure for these savages.




Written by Atakti
Published
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