Scratch, scratch, scratch,
Skin-colored octopus tentacles
come,
squeeze me
force me
to use my gray blood
to write
hundreds of words
When there is no more blood,
I must go
to get my tongue shaved
again
so there is more
lead like blood
Until I start to shrink
Until I cannot be strangled
anymore
then,
I am crammed
into another box
but instead of young,
fresh, ones,
I am with pencils that are,
like me,
USELESS