Before I press the nib,
to the texture of a vintage paper,
I think about you.
I let your words chime,
in the darkness of my hollow existence,
I let your cravings rise up,
to the surface of my skin.
I let myself crumble down,
under the weight of your impossible truth.
A thousand capillaries bursting in my head.
I let myself cry in your agony.

Then I bleed; on your behalf.

~RavS