I slowly dip my fingers into the red ink...

...and spread it across my broken face in smooth slow circles, trying to cover the black & blue with another shade of hate. As I cover each mark and let the ink dry, I face my reflection in the mirror and start to cry. Partly for myself, but also for him, love trapped in fear, the ultimate fukt up emotion. I realize things now, that i wish i had before, opening my eyes, wider, wider more. Soaking in the past, while dreaming about the new, stuck in an endless pattern, of self persecution and abuse. I've never felt this broken before, yet also reborn, new energy in bloom. So I turn on the tap and start to wash my face clean, the red ink dripping from my face, the black n blue strangely clean. Once I am dry I turn out the light and think about better daze, be they wrong or hopefully right.