Lately, I have been bleeding ink through my fingertips,

Everything I touch, I stain. Everything I know flows through the pages and then it overflows.

Lately, I see paper heads instead of faces.

Each a blurry white sheet of paper for me to fill.

But none of them worthy enough for me to fill.

So, I float between the ink in my head. For all that I could have said, For all that I could have wrote, I regret.

Then I float and float until I drown.

And these paper heads float around the room waiting for me to stain them but I resist.

They sway with the wind, I know and they will rain the ink, the words I wrote to them.

So, I refrain until these paper heads become a little clearer,

As they all carry words heavier than mine and it weighs them down..

But for now I bleed ink through my fingertips and stain everything I touch