Little Black Books

I'll fill each tiny, beating heart
With memories of dust and rain
Which once complete reach a point
Of no return, where they contain
An essence, strand of DNA
Each more potent with each thought
Scribbled down in strokes of pen
To replicate a clone of sorts

Bound, black volumes of my mind
To be inserted, should the time
Arise when bodies can be built
To withstand all the blood and guilt
And promises of expectations
To succeed, made to relations
Made to friends in friendships cause
Now beyond this skin drawn taught

Tight on bones that bend and creak
With every untold word that speaks
Of disappointment, pride and joy
Put to page in blotted ploys
At immortality

And maybe that's what God did
In some forgotten verse
Inked his thoughts on paper
Exorcised his hurt
His languish and his pleasure
Are massed in you and I
We each are tiny, messy books
Beneath a Moleskine sky

J. x