Ode to Black Lines

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Black Lines,
That’s what they see.
This pen.
My pen,
Flowing across the page,
My heart spilling,
In black lines.
These black lines
That so effortlessly
Fall from my mind
Onto this page,
For you to read.
These evil slashes,
Gouges in the earth, 
Yet a fingertips full
Of icing.
Burning, 
Cramping,
Through my hand
And onto this page,
As perfect black lines.
Fury burns in them,
Sadness thickens them,
Happiness runs through them.
Yellow thoughts blot the page,
A childhood well remembered.
A perfect hug 
In the twilight air.
Vibrant green eyes
That I am
Constantly lost in.
My best friend
Beautiful and youthful,
All black nights
Running from each other
In a frenzied game.
These black lines
That ran through 
The pit of Hades 
Heart and came
Out cloaked with 
Hate.
Hatred born from 
A few stabbing words.
The red 
Wrath, 
Of dead emotion,
Born from those green
Pits.
 These black lines
That came from the
Caverns of the
Darkest corner of
My sadistic mind.
These black lines.
These are my false fantasies.
Im a dark angel
A flood of black ink.
My heart is this pen
And these black lines.
So I write these
Midnight demons
These daytime doodles,
And they make me
Feel better.
They let it all out.
Happy,
Sad,
Evil and terrifying.
My life pauses
And floods of ideas,
Poison,
Comes out of me.
My tears form the
Sentences and stanzas
That make up this,
This confession.
My emotions make up the 
Thread that is fraying
That separates reality
From dreams.
My pain shapes the
Words that this pen 
Angrily slaps onto this page.
All in the form of these
Little black lines.
 
 
Poetry Slam: 
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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