“Natural Resources”… Honestly, I don’t remember writing this, but WordPress was kind enough to let me know it was last edited November 18 of last year. I can only think this seed germinated into the poem “Why I Don’t Cry“. Apparently, sadness manifests itself visually in the concept of being an overflowing black oil ready to gush out in such volume as to destroy everything.
And if I feared opening my mouth it was because the sadness flowed through me like the blackest of crude oils. A thick, viscous beast that drowned the light. People saw it in my eyes, from which they averted their own. Whatever feeble words I might summon would be engulfed before exiting my pursed lips. I was an oil rig precious movements away from a catastrophic explosion. A volcanic gushing that would slowly envelop the earth like ink seeping under the fingernails until all was the shade of starless night.