I want to write in blackberries.

 

There is a style these days 

to be acerbic,

and punctuate in neon. 

 

It is stylistically exciting, 

if only because lime green

has never been anything but sickly,

unless you’re comparing to grey. 

 

I miss the old uncool world

of jewel tones and velvet.

Life described as sumptuous,

pulling you in

to be engaged, thrilled, tingled

to your fingertips. 

 

Anyone can write a corpse.

I really don’t need to relate

or escape to depression - 

there’s no need to tour

a town of two hundred and fifty.

 

If there must be darkness in writing, 

then let it be in forests,

in the way clifftops

and big waves cast shadows

at night;

Let it be found,

p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Helvetica; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000}
p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 11.0px Helvetica; color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000; min-height: 13.0px}
span.s1 {font-kerning: none}

in the crevices of blackberries.