when the pen is sharp
it cuts deep to my quick
whet in the arterial flow
that I might spray words
across the world’s walls;
the macabre neon graffiti
of a man who dies again and again and again
when the pen is sharp
it cuts deep to my quick
whet in the arterial flow
that I might spray words
across the world’s walls;
the macabre neon graffiti
of a man who dies again and again and again