Death flows from the pen,
a slow flow of black blood.
The heart gives its lifeforce,
all to feed the ravenous page.
The pen is mightier than the sword,
it cuts, it kills, it mutilates.
And yet, it is also catharsis
The black blood no longer poisons...
The cancerous mass is excised...
The rage and pain are transferred...
...and I can finally go back to sleep.
by Tom Elmer
2000.09.02, 0810 UTC