Awake Enough

Faint lines sketch the shade,
lightly at first,
under the inhuman eye

Ink seeps into the pores,
as the morning rays flood

Each an overflowing reservoir,
passing over every depression

Like a sleepless artist dreaming a tired dream,
smooth black pools create descending lines,
rapidly now,
in race of the unknown

Hardened ink turns into a marble-black surface

The liquid below sinks deeper,
abbsorbing into the submersed stream,
that breaks the symmetry of awareness

A tattooed callus of consciousness

Sealing the sleepy artist,
as he draws himself,
beneath the hardened ceiling of ink

With darkened eyes of his very own