Hemmingway

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemmingway

As liquid life floods onto the paper

Marring the words with it's thick red black

Spread over the white

I wonder where it comes from

What deep place inside of me

Can produce death this real,

The red liquid words marring the page

Pain, in it's rightful place

Trapped in two dimentions

Marring the canvas of my paper