Blue (Poem 8 of 30: 2016)

Blue
The thing
That’s been looming
In my backdrop
All day
Ripping the
Daisy Chains
And sunrises
From my life

Is it grief or relief
To process and remand
My essence to paper
Sacrifice on the altar of experience
Hue can’t survive the toxicity
Of India Ink and amplified contrast
Just as distillation can accentuate
Or erase taste
Dependent on process

Care, then, must always be taken
When putting oneself into one’s work
For the Tea is best when strong
But the brew can easily turn bitter
If left to steep too long
As can the artist
Or the chronic masturbator

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About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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