Ink

by PJ Carmichael

My blood is ink
rising to the surface
of a thermometer,

Mercury in mouth
and retrograde

(skin breathing
boiling water),

a mixture of
flesh and flowers,

Alpha and Omega,
the best and worst
of time and space,
unique clichés that have yet

to be worn out.

I perform invasive surgery
on the Self, push the boundaries,
deepen incisions, eviscerate myself

onto the page,

force myself on
an unenthusiastic
world.