Wraith ink

Inspired by those who have forgotten what shape a box is...

Wraith ink smells of funny blood in the air,
the world is mine and mine alone
time to seize those in despair.

i feel a wind fall from behind me,
a chilling gaze that twists my bone,
yet when i turn the wraith inks...eye can't see!

My body brakes and i'm paralyzed
from nerves to vessels torn into stone
i become the receptor desensitized.

For all i care i could die now,
but of this place...the darkened zone
i know i'm needed but i know not how...

The wraith inks its arm...a tool,
taking the shape of its unholy home
Painting on me with my blood...a fool.

i fall ascending, transfixed into them,
and from the cold reverberating into chrome.
Betwixt the self of two forms, the wraith inks again.

Author's Note

i want to stress this poem is experimental, the focus was more on the meaning of the words...

Reviews

[Kari [io]]

i really like this one. the first stanza is one of the strongest i've seen in a poem in a long time. i like your use of elipses also. i know what you mean about poems coming to you in reverse, it totally happens to me from time to time.