Why write if inks eternal?

It’s funny, that in our need to purge, we often forget that ink is a stain corrupting what once was innocent, pure, and untainted. We forget that movement means something is lost in the miles that we’ve traveled, that when we look up we miss what sits at our feet, and that staring at the sun in pursuit of our dreams ‘oft leaves us blind and stumbling. We ignore that the small boxes filled with days are markings of death, single-lined and waiting for fulfilment.

This piece captures those moments, like the struggling consciousness of a nightmare trapped mind. This is awake, without any of the power to move beyond what it is. Another whimsical weaving of words, definitely shining on its skillful master.

Your right about that, looking back now a lot of what I wrote was unpolished and rough around the edges but I've always kind of liked it that way. Now what I write feels more like the finished product, but is never raw, powerful or direct enough for my liking.
Thank you very much for reading and commenting :)

This is gorgeous...

Why write indeed? What is the point if we can't re-write realities?

You've dragged crucifixion into it, too. That'll catch the irreverent and pious readers alike...

And so am I, minty, thank you for noticing :)
That was my plan all along, get the biblical types talking about it and it won't be forgotten for a few years until someone burns the internet.