Without Blood in the Ink

“The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.” ~ T.S. Eliot

.
Stories are nothing
without blood inking
words into worlds,
without bone shaping
flesh into tale.

Where blood is taboo
and
wants of flesh filth,
Imagination seeks
seppuku.

Did you know?

Poems will die
without kisses (and screams)
birthing verses,
without heart & soul writing
as one quill.

Without blood in the ink,
stories are nothing.

.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and Poets United.