INKPOT

To the coffee stains on writing sheets,
To the bitter taste at the back of my tongue,
To the buzzing ceiling fan that I exchange fleeting gazes with,
To the dazed weather with its occasional rain and occasional sunshine,
I bid a heart-broken farewell.

Never did I anticipate this circumstance
.
At a loss of interest,
At a crucial negative emotion,
In a bottle of anger,
With an agitated soul,
I wander off
Blank and Bemused,
Eyes unwrapped,
Gaze fixed,
Into a peculiar state

The pre-meditated ooze of awareness exists no more

Then I tumble and toil
Descend and disintegrate
Into a cavernous cavity
Converging itself around me
Engulfing me, as I breathlessly tolerate the clutch of its hold

I stay seized in its grip
When a comprehension of transgression
Hits me, whereupon I exploit it

And I commence a violent act of
Jabbing and shoving
As the margins begin to give in

A breathless moment!

Into a distressed state, panicky and ghastly, I start to succumb
My jabs begin to slacken
I slow down, I slow down and protract to a stop

Just then, a gust of memories and dreams of an elapsed past arrive
A stream of thoughts strings itself into voluntary existence and
The tense tenor terminates too

Words begin to flow
Thoughts begin to set in motion

The ever so intimidating vocabulary of English that floats
In the fluidal cavities of skull and brain barrier
Descends, once again, into the wet white areas of my cognisant thoughts

The stimuli of its rapid descent sets confounding responses in me
As I pick up a fountain pen and douse it into an inkpot
The brunette ink drenched its capillaries

I hurriedly remove the pen off the pot and stick it in the middle of a page
A surge of words drift across it constructing sensuous sentences

The flow of ink goes kaput, thus follows
A ritual of dipping and scribbling and dipping back again
Prolonged and Persistent

I don’t stop,
I never stop,
Until the tides of emotions and blotches of ink rip the page.

The words halt
My hands freeze
A sense of liberation takes over me