FRANKENSTEIN'S APPRENTICE

Lives created between blue spaces...
copulation of mind and pen
now crumpled inside a wooden coffin, 
once their birthplace, 
to be discarded into a graveyard of lost notions
Red lines strike through black lines
executing their existence, 
or maybe just killing them briefly
so they might simply be born again; ah, yes, born again
I sift through graves to revive bodies I deem fit
as to give them life once more
and allow them to live among pages of immortality