Bleed

-I just want to write today,
to leave the little markers of time
that may, if viewed in a certain light
at a certain angle, mean something.
Leaving the scratchings of my thoughts
and the meandering of my mind
poured upon the white abyss in its lightness,
an attempt to add weight.
To scrawl little black etchings, like
the clawing at breath, attempting to fill lungs
with a smile and never exhale.
Sit in a posture that is not of benefit
to my frame or back, but which allows
me to disappear as it remains, leaning
in over the screen and its keys.
To become oblivious to anything
except the syllables slowly forged in
my mind, the ones that dance out
as they hold hands and leap together
into sound, as I sink deeper into oblivion.
I just want to write today. Leave the world
at my fingertips and with those same tips
manipulate the keys and pen strokes, slashing
at thin white parchment sliced from the tees
that blow in the wind.
I just want to write today, becoming less
of myself with each line drawn
into each letter and becoming more
of each word bled from me.