Ink is never so thick as its sister, thought.
Black until you blink and the images
enlighten the bold flavor of each story
falling from your ears,
drinking at the air surrounding
hydrated by voices of the passerby
and heated by their countenance.
Drip down into a smaller shoe
to walk a path most vital
back and forth, footstep froth
a journeyman’s recital
Every single night
you are bound.
You will feel the sound
on the beginnings of your veins
twisting through both the story you are
and the one you create.
Follow your own blue
for the red to truly swell.
Ascend and tell me how you fair
once your fingertips
taste every well.
You can fall.
The imprint of your ink will decide
whether or not it was a crash.