tattoo you

tattoo you

my scars inside

and out

are my permanent ink

my life story

my art

© Kait King, 2015

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Not a good time…

Not a good time

Inky black, I’m sucked back

down to her dark depths

Like an octopus her story wraps me in its tentacles

A stranglehold on stories told

and the ink she has spread across the page I can’t see through

I think I’m drowning…it’s sticky black and I should come up for air

even though my mouth is open to suck grace in -nothing fills my lungs

even though my eyes are open there is nothing – nothing but darkness

inky blackness the colour of the story told with the pain of being buried alive

© Kait King, 2015

All the ink

all the ink

There is no other way to write

the truth spills from the soul

an eager hand and frenzied mind

I scribble out my fill

The scratching on the paper

the lead shines the ink glows

what I will write next

I don’t even know

but the truth is how it is easy

to tell what must be said

and there is an urgency in this

as one day we are dead

My fingers ache at times

as I just can’t seem to stop this flow

of words into lines a cadence reached –a drop
The wonder in me wonders

I speak it loud and often think

If I keep on writing like this

Will there be enough ink?

© Kait King, 2015