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Tattoo for the Void.

I am
nothing, going
nowhere:

bleached canvas,
empty plates, naked
and lonely walls:
living, aching
tabula rasa.

I know. I’m self
aware and, I think
you would see,
quite adept
at self-loathing.

I don’t need your help.
Just fuck off.
Eat shit and leave.
I can tell my own tale.
Paint my own life.

Go ahead.
Brand me,
get creative
and colorful

with the ink,
quill bleeding profusely
in expert designs
and wicked symbols,

analogies, visually-translated
expressions
and metaphors
galore.

Mark the moment.
It’s as good as any.
Why should give a flying
rat’s ass anymore?

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One response to “Tattoo for the Void.

  1. Pingback: Tattoo for the Void. | regorypeteryounger

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