Scratches

Wave upon wave of
Muddied darkness crash upon
The foreboding cliffs of the
Narrow gorges of my mind;
Words shiver with dread
For even a factual mention.
The pen languishes parched
An epoch has crawled past.
The hands though, trapped
In the momentum which hasn’t
Abated since the drought set in,
Fail to let go of the pen and
Their compulsion for words.
The nib as if possessed,
Scratches away ceaselessly,
Catharsis of invisible words.
The paper remains blank, but
Bruised, grazed and forever marked.
Welts have erupted, wounds gouged out.
And where the nib’s pierced too deep
Touching the long interred bygones,
A violent fault has gashed apart,
Oozing viscous blood, the colour of
Kohl black ink.