My vision hooked shut
A blaring symphony of cells
Look: Separated,
I have again summoned up this scintillating,
antiquated carving knife
its tip clicked off
the stains of sins past now rusting its dull
feathered edge
its handle cracked like nerves thirsting

It is this I use.
It is always this I use
to penetrate my chest
look (don't) :
I force the knife
which yields softly, which
envelopes the blade like pig putty and blood

Screaming I

push again
my arms live for me now
and they push again
twisting this edge past my mighty
blanched ribs
until the blade touches
of all things
my heart
but I do not stop there
for I am no laggard
I know this process
is about endurance


I cut


I saw


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