Ink in my pen seeps out onto my hands.
Covered in splotches of black, and blue; like an artist's palette.
Ink on my hands absorbs into my skin, entering my bloodstream.
The liquid colors of blues and blacks now flow through my body
like red and white blood cells; there to keep me alive.
The vibrant, chemical liquids has made home in my heart's veins.
I write and the process repeats adding more ink into my body.
The ink takes over.
My heart now no longer pumps blood,
but instead pumps the ink of the words I wrote.