#tattoo
Waking up alone
Can't believe you're gone
In the middle of the night you reach my mind
It's been four years today since I last saw your face
Nothing ever feels right without you by my side
But the thing is
No matter how hard I try
These memories won't leave my mind
And now I can't erase the picture of your face
It's like a tattoo on my heart
And the family we made
I cherish every day
It's like a tattoo on my heart
Still dream of you
Can't seem to come through
I'm frozen in time
Cause you were my whole life
And everyday I'm trying to amend
For the mistakes I made
Never again
So the thing is
No matter how hard I try
These memories won't get out of my mind
And now I can't replace the picture of your face
It's like a tattoo on my heart
And the family we made
I cherish everyday
They're like a tattoo on my heart
Feb 24
Feb 24, 2026 at 5:59 AM UTC
In Ink
One dot at a time
Sublime
You reach out across my skin
with that dark passage from the depths
of my being ...Designed
to be
That of me where I sit
And so and so....Just So
Pictures from the dark recesses of my mind
One dot at a time
Slow Oh so slow You come
Reveal yourself so I can revel in
That picture That image
Snap/into existence/shot
Ah There you are
Are you a crow who flies?
Are you a tiger with emerald eyes?
Are you him?
Are you me?
Ink Masters that's all that matters
as you grow withintent
To become......
My tattoo
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 1:12 PM UTC
White, loosened shirt,
a teasing tattoo
ART
inked between teardrop *******
golden hair unchained,
dancing in the wind’s caress.
Her face
desire sketched by the devil’s own hand.
I breathed,
**** you’re hot…
or maybe I’m dead
and this is heaven.”
She smiled,
soft flame on her lips,
“Sorry, mate
I’m a lesbian.”
I grinned back,
“Good Lord
so am I.”
Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 2:33 AM UTC
I was scrolling through Pinterest
when I saw a drawing
of a girl with flowers sprouting from her head
watering herself
I felt the scars on my thigh—
the ones only I can see—begin to itch
So I decided
I would tattoo that drawing over
my war marks
so I’d never do something like that
to myself
again
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 11:28 AM UTC
(a tribute to C.S. Pacat)
on a bed
of white flowers,
etched on my wrist,
i wear it as a vow,
above the place
my pulse
tenderly blooms,
forgetting to lie.
her soft handwriting
is a reminder of a journey
i had once taken
between the lines,
forgiveness forming,
from lashes to petals,
on bruised pages.
i carry her with me,
their story, her essence,
kingdoms folding into skin,
her words marking
not only a change,
but a becoming —
the slow-burn
of identity
i can finally place.
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 6:44 AM UTC
A pack;
It's what I've always wanted;
A family all my own.
My life, through lessons,
Left me haunted;
I set out on my own.
On my knuckles,
Still fresh with pride,
The ink which marks my path,
I've no true love,
And no true friends,
And I won't hide
My wrath.
The one I could've
Called my own
Is thirteen years now passed;
Yet as a Lone Wolf,
I still roam,
And leave the mark
I cast;
It's not about
The isolation,
Nor that I'm alone.
It's less about the
Loneliness,
More that I feel ALONE.
But still, I've made
My peace inside,
Ask anyone I know!
I travel as a Lone Wolf,
But they all know me,
Where I go.
Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 3:13 AM UTC
You wore your tattoos
Just like your heart
On your sleeves of wonderful art
Each tells a story, a reason
Each admired and seen
But it was your heart
That wanted to be seen, heard
It was your heart that had the reasons
Of why you were art itself
Your skin adored
But it was the heart that yearned
A canvas for black ink, worn proudly
An uncolored heart, worn openly
You loved the pain of the needle
But you feared the pain of your vessel
Despite it all
You wore your heart on your sleeve
Aching to be filled, colored
To tell its story, its love
Your most beautiful tattoo
Is the empty outline
Of where your love should be
Apr 21, 2025
Apr 21, 2025 at 11:00 AM UTC
He kissed
my flower
tattoo.
you naughty minds - smirks
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 5:46 AM UTC
Beneath this stone, a soul now rests,
A life once filled with endless quests.
To find the self, a journey true,
Through art and ink, a path anew.
This body, a canvas for the mind,
Etched with symbols, a story defined.
Tattoos, a testament to the heart,
Expressing truths, never to part.
In youth, a search for identity,
Grasping for answers, a fragility.
But through the brush, the pen, the needle's touch,
A self emerged, no longer in such.
The artist's hand, a guiding light,
Unlocking doors to inner sight.
Colors and lines, a language divine,
Revealing the depths of this soul's design.
Tattoos, a tapestry of life's tale,
Scars and triumphs, never too pale.
A map of experiences, a road well trod,
Etched upon flesh, a testament to the divine.
In this final resting place, a life well-lived,
A journey of self-discovery, freely given.
Through art and ink, a legacy left behind,
A testament to the power of the human mind.
May all who pass by this humble grave,
Be inspired by the life that here did crave.
To find their own path, their own true self,
And let their story be told, not left on a shelf.
For, in the end, it is not the years that matter,
But the mark we leave, the lives we shatter.
This soul, now at peace, has found its way,
A life well-lived, a masterpiece displayed.
Dec 28, 2024
Dec 28, 2024 at 1:04 PM UTC
I thought you were a tattoo
A permanent mark on my skin
A love that lasts forever
But you were only the ink of a sharpie
After just a few showers
You washed away
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 8:40 PM UTC
little birds work their way up her neck
as if her ear would give them
the rest they deserve
their colors are fresh
ink is set
clearly their flight
has not been long enough
to make them fade
vibrant
but hidden by hair
not quite long enough
to obscure them
just long enough
to give them shade
from time to time
I long to give those birds
the rest they deserve
to lend them my lips
as a momentary resting place
on countless occasions
in the years to come
I long to give them hope
to show them that their flight
their constant motion
is unnecessary
and that it is ok
for them to settle down
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
Over the surface of feeling
skin healing
from cuts bruises and scars
what happened to us being made of stars?
we sit in black holes
no money for energy bills
it’s a battle of wills
to survive
we strive
Just to be alive
and yet our dreams perish
yet we should cherish
each other.
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 3:44 PM UTC
depicted on her arm
hieroglyphs and pictorial charm
tattoo sleeve deep dive
into an ocean of everything
she finds so hard to relate
left hanging in the air
but don't question it
like the elephant in the room
move right on stranger
it's not speaking to you
there is a cult of believers
a religion based on trust
if you need to ask the reason
non-believer you are lost
in a garden that's a secret
that's already cast you out
you'll never know her freedom
it's a dish you just can't taste
Dec 27, 2021
Dec 27, 2021 at 7:07 PM UTC
he conveyed an exterior
tough as a nut
layered as an onion
sharp as a knife
tattooed like a gallery
hidden emotion displayed
across the canvas of a body
scarred by conflict
battered by life
he walked defensively
decisively
a single minded direction
where to go
what to do
pushing through crowds
politely
though no one dared
challenge him
Oct 29, 2021
Oct 29, 2021 at 10:13 PM UTC
Tattoos are scars
we choose to keep--
words we want to carry,
memories we fear losing;
ink and needle are
the self-inflicted stinging:
the pain we choose to feel.
art on our bodies--
out of our minds--
something
real.
Sep 11, 2021
Sep 11, 2021 at 4:31 PM UTC
I trust my deep scars inside/outside me,
cause they stayed for long , even others had just left
Sep 7, 2021
Sep 7, 2021 at 12:45 PM UTC
There’s something about the bleeding of
a pen through paper and on to
the other side
It gives me
a sense of permanency
Trying hard to stay put
it bleeds for its home
A mother hoping so much
to hold on. Leaves a
mark on their children
A tattoo of trauma
Leaves a mark on your
children
A love so sweet it’s tattoo
permanent mark my skin
with your presence on my
shoulder; permanent
A hope so sweet, I hope it’s
permanent
Bleed through my skin, leave a
splotch like pen to a paper
marking home reminding
you of its permanence
Jul 22, 2021
Jul 22, 2021 at 4:53 PM UTC
The skin a canvas to life
Stretchers pulling us in every direction
Crossing the river into the lands of time
Our craft steered by a soul reader
A needle crosses through my miasma
Pierced our skin emits a homely light
The way becomes clear
Peacefulness, coolness and evanity comes out of pain
An echo of our selves now revealed
Memorials nailed down
Guardians now protecting
A morphing eulogy
Each mark an initiation
A symbol of me in a closed world
My enamoured armour
Beliefs for all to see
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 2:29 PM UTC
I am gazing at a shining portrait as my desire is announced by distant bell chimes. I merge with the paint and feel absorbed into a different timeline.
In the painting, the wind carries a scent of a familiar tree assorted with the melody of its leaves. It all brings back the memory of a song that I love, that reminds me of a woman I met in a vision from a dream yet I don't know the language it is made of, nor I can sing it for I am dyslexic in the ear.
This is an illusion, I see it. Still, I deem it to be real, similar to a scene that I keep reliving as I wander the mystical golden desert, I wonder is fulfillment an insult or a compliment if attained outside the ordinary strains of sensual accomplishments?
Disconcerted by previous arrangements i think it through to realize this is an illusion is just a tattoo .
Words Of Harfouchism
Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 5:28 AM UTC
The pursuit of individuality
Covered skin, a form of art
Special meaning hidden
Behind a colourful facade
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 7:43 PM UTC
people be saying:
“Defacing your temple of Lord.”
“Vandalizing your skin.”
“Marking up your body.”
“A mistake you’ll come to regret.”
“It's ugly, it’s stupid, it makes no sense.”
God gave me a mind, filled with light and color and ideas and beauty. And he gave me a body, plain and simple like a blank canvas asking to be colorized.
I stain my skin with ink because I think it is beautiful.
My body is covered with marks from a needle, not a knife. This is the way I choose to feel, think and share with the world. You ought to be glad that my way is not another.
And how could I regret painting my skin in a way that brings me such happiness?
You look at these lines and squiggles and all you see is dirt. Maybe to you, there is no rhyme or reason to the pictures that I so carefully choose, but every mark has its story. Maybe if you’d ask, I’d share them with you?
I color my flesh.
Have fun, have a voice,
Express my thoughts without using words.
A permanent reminder of what I stand for,
A protest of the things I do not.
This is my body and I do as I please.
Could it be you who is wrong
For reprimanding me from wanting the world to see
That I am not perfect,
But in imperfection, beauty can still be found?
Could it be you who needs to open your mind
And your heart to new ideas
So although you all treat my tattoos to be taboo
If I wish to paint my skin, that is what I will do.
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 1:41 PM UTC
I felt the sting of adulthood
tattoo my skin
with colors
of
y
o
u
t
h
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 2:19 AM UTC