* Small simple safe price
rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets
this is not a small cut that scabs and dries and flakes and heals.
And I am not afraid to die.
I'm not afraid to bleed, and f*** and fight.
I want the pain of payment.
What's left but a section of pygmy sized cuts-
much like a slew of a thousand unwanted f***s
would you be my little cut?
would you be my thousand f***s?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts.
My sad sorry selfish cry out to the cutter,
I'm cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything.
Especially a f***ing knife!*
Look at me.
Look at me now!
I don't even care.
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