Blood and Water

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I left a space on blotted page 

where pen had not yet wandered, 

my mind grew cold in cranium cage, 

for heart and hand had sundered, 

where once they had thundered – bright 

electric day to sweet goodnight. 

I cannot tell if dusk or dawn 

now jangles in my ear, 

its haze is damp – its light forlorn 

now dwindles in my tear, 

and here I fear for creeping night, 

for sleeping shadow ‘gainst the light.

In piercèd side now flows my lyric, 

a reddened wound – my metaphor, 

now gushing streams of thoughts dysphoric 

have drowned my gentle troubadour. 

So here I war with words which blight 

this paper soul, I must ignite.