to where the word leads

Drown poetry in ink

Bleed out words like accidental splotches

A pen imploding, leaking

A page torn in two

A writer sits unsure of the direction best taken

A line better followed

A road unpaved, or better yet paved badly

Each lurch forward is a risk of falling into the craters

Left behind by 18-wheeler trucks that make the earth tremble

Like the hand of an unsure writer who begs to tear the page in half

To expose the fissures that held it all together in the first place

The ligaments of a damn sentences

The limbs of consonants and cries of howling vowels

As tear stains blur the lines below

Turning rigid roads into round bubbles that

Boil deep inside until

A poem drips down the pages aimlessly

Yet full of heart