A Sponge of Purple Ink Weighted with Bitter Taste A sponge of purple ink weighted with bitter taste, give away for free—give away without even a second thought—what you think, and loss landfills things like your head’s emptiness with regrets that leave when that brain-meat’s been drained clean of all its colour, of its power over pink becoming grey. Let live unsaid what lives you think you’ve yet to lose and, with time, you’ll prove more than kings can do that true wealth moves through your veins, vanishes with breath but retains in coded coils what stains flesh with indelible links. Chains unafraid to bleed painful memories win affections your being too unkind to your Self— too unforgiving—keep deaf-sentenced to languish in silence. If you sing of freedom, it’s granted. Share:ShareClick to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on Skype (Opens in new window)Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) Related September 23, 2020 Categories: Poetry