Blood on the Page

I bleed all over the page
A paper cut?
Nay,
The blood flows from my heart
Deep and bright and red…
​
Arterial ink
I put it there
In black and white
For all to see
 
They judge me
But they do not know
They do not understand
Yet they pretend to
 
I write therefore I am
Descartes misguided…
He thought therefore he was
Ha!
 
But must I myself not be before I can write?
Yes…
I write because I am
I am because I write
 
I am…therefore my words are
And they are…
On the page
In blood
Ink the color of soul.

- S. Huey