black ink
           on the tips of fingers.
   I dipped them
         in to get a feeling for the thickness
         I would be swimming in.

stickiness
           left behind:
  hard to breathe in,
                            and even harder to define.

I'll compare
     to the trash on fire,
                        stamped out by rain
                              a thick, mottled stain.

black ink
           smeared across veins.
      I've settled for alternatives;
           Silly, sing-song alternatives.

black ink
           smeared across veins.
       the thickness remains,
       even after I've washed it away.

I am tracing
             the lines,
      drowning.
                                Heavy mottled lines
                                                              left behind.
  
               hard to breath,
                             and even harder to define.