Razor’s Edge

your words are saw-toothed razors

rusted in moldy marinade

arsenic and cyanide

I knew you

when compassion

your modest camisole


from beneath

sweatered scrutiny

so I swallow

serrated fragments

disembowel myself

with hardened consonants

presupposing credence

I tattoo your epithetical


etch upon forearms

contemplate resultant gore

in concentrated


having held your esteem

close to heart

the whetted edges

of your sentences

press against my jugular

I funnel blood

into my quill

suturing begins




12 thoughts on “Razor’s Edge

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