Cycle of Love

like a drug addict
he stabs his arm with his pen
and injects the black ink into his veins
slowly the ink invades his body
and jus as the ink poisons him
and throws him on a high
he slits his wrists with the thin sharp blade
pure white as he thought it would be
the page cuts deep enough
to let his blood gush out
onto the paper landscape
the blood fills every crest and crevice
forming mountains of words
which was deeper than any soul had ever been
once the high was gone
he had looked at the canvas and read the painting
everyone knows that a picture can paint a thousand words
but only the artist knows the sentiment behind it
and this poet
had experienced a metaphor of love
it was quick to invade your very being
and that beautiful high of being inlove
was he best feeling in the world
but after a while it becomes hazardous to you
and the only way most run away from it
is to run away from themselves
and this world…