Sometimes when
The emotions
Are overflowing,
Rushing from the
Dark red
Paper cuts
Lacing my
Poet’s fingers,
Dripping across my
Permanent pen,

Washing away
The fragments
I have managed
To release
From my heart’s
Strangling grip,

I lose touch,
My cold, sweaty palms
Part from the
Gleaming window
Of reality,
Recede from the
Painful blurs
That make my
Young ventricles
Pump faster,

Sometimes,
When I write,

I forget the world.