Pool Of Ink (97 Sketchbook) Poem by bypass the muse

there was a pool of ink
that seemed to grow
into rings of smoke
in bars
to spread like
an eagle wafting
on polluted
interdimensional
chasms
in broken bowels

and then, the words
grew smaller
the thoughts simpler
until they melted
into tiny tear-like
pellets

dark rain, shaded
seeping stain
the one
you know not
how you got

and the rains
the rains
are in motion
but
reigns
are somehow
taught
the time inside moves
faster
while the world
around slps by
slowly

warm sips
of black water
tepid
bowls
of cauldron
stuff
billowing in waves
the fleeting
constrained
to a cosmic
cough
wicked tubes
cracked
solace past
ink
pools of ink
seeping
blood
turned ink
smothers
chokes
blood turned
black
turned ink
bleed fast