Tag Archives: sharp

boy with the bullets (smith & wesson)

It’s not fair when you say that I didn’t try
I just don’t want to hear it anymore
I swear I never meant to let it die
I just don’t care about you anymore…

~*~

you’ve been nothing but good to me

and yet i treat you with feral viciousness

spitting sharp razors down your back

and taking a .45 to your bruised throat

like you deserved any of it at all,

but you don’t. if anything, i am the one

who needs to be put down, for all the

crimes i’ve committed against you,

for every inflicted pain and malicious insult,

for every tactless word that travels from

my mouth and straight to your lungs, making

you lose your breath’s momentum again;

for everything i did to you and everything i didn’t…

you deserve to pull the fucking t r i g g e r

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Nightlight

This headache could be ended right now

And not a naive soul would even notice it

Besides the bedroom walls that whispered

About the blunt blades and sharp knuckles

That passed by them when every midnight

Grew dim and solitary and far too mindless,

And the innocent child that held violence as

Their only form of staying awake to stay alive

Caused them pain over and over and over again.

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Thanatopsis Erebus

Soft wrists and sharp edges

A dark breath in decline

The disconcerting interplay

Performance of the sign

Moon-blanched vulgarities

Pale innocence on death

Wistful dreams for coroners

Torment thy cozen health

Sedation after manipulations

Lies of century-old adage

Contradictions the affectation

Of this cadenced sabotage

Soft minds and sharp hindsight

Provoke suffocating times

Of this disenchanting execution

Leaving only wordless lines.

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exsanguinate

the need

to bleed

has never

felt better

sharp things

still missing—

where can i

go to cry?

the greed

for bleeds

is forever

held power

sharp things

i’m needing—

where can i

go to die?

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W i t h o u t · A · S h a r p e r · K n i f e

Honesty sold-out at face value, the price you pay for distance

The depth of your wounds can’t be measured by the doctors in the ambulance

Complicate my rising lungs and grip my falling chestnut hair

Sleep in, I won’t keep bleeding out dreams if I know you’re always right there

This battle is yours to expiate, with every star there is to count

As multitudinous as the silver glistening in your face, an ebony ink tantamount

You’re regressing back to the rejected days of golden senescence

I wouldn’t let go of the only part of my life that makes any semblance of a sense.

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knotted

hatred is all that ever

intertwines itself within my

fraying veins, embedded

deeply and melding

until even the sharpest of blades

are unable to dig it out

and i slowly begin to unravel.

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inhale

deep breaths

are supposed to be calming

like a soothing balm

an emollient for oneself

.

but somehow it

just braces me for the quick

sharp exhales of the

oncoming pain.

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Sharp Edges

But these bruises don’t breathe

Unless you ameliorate them

With your own cold, lifeless hands

.

The daylight appears desolately bleak

Sucking out watercolour dawn and sunset

Waiting for you to speak about them

.

Jagged contusions that I tend to

Hiding constellations when you’re awake

Afraid that you’ll leave me for the light

.

Midnight is but a chemical rush

Your body is but an unfinished work of art

Morning is but an automatic languor

.

I’m useless anyway; so use my trophy eyes

And when you get tired of the view

You can blind me and throw away whatever’s left.

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testing hot water

oh, he’s so edgy

as a blunt blade

and with a sneer

have you unmade

oh, she’s so sharp

as chiseled stones

and with her drop

shatter your bones

oh, they’re so angry

and preciously proud

i should be scared but

who’s laughing now?

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sticks and stones

oh, if only

those sharp

and acidic

words can

physically

hurt or inflict

then i would

have been

injured long

ago, and you

wouldn’t live

to see a minute.

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