INK MAN
I task you to put a face to this pen, Draw a persona from this ink, Put a phase to it then. Writing is Psychic— in your thoughts you can sync , shrink , and then sink. You'll face recurrent icebergs when you think . As an Ink Man, I observe all to tell the tales of men. Tales about the daily hustle of life. Each with a goal of succeeding for family and Weighed with the load of everyone else As they continue, crossed beyond the sabbath. But there are no resurrections in these parts—death is on repeat. As an ink Man, I inscribe you when you face that, To trace that to a wider audience who might soon face that. I’m wondering if you understood that. Other times they are all fictions from my boundless mind. I piece so many dots together you’d think this graph is a replication of space— But there’s no time and nothing really matters. But these matters from the ink man's journal will safeguard you when that happens in time. Okay enough riddles! All I am saying is, I a
