slices of the past are a
cold pizza breakfast;
the taste is good but the
texture
has been altered
it is tougher colder
& stiff
i’ve got a mind like a steel trap and memories so sharp they tear through flesh.
and once upon a time,
i was an artist
creating designs with knives.
at first red and hot to the touch,
their brilliance faded and became
faint, etched permanently
into skin -
now (of their own
accord) they open and
draw back like velvet curtains
(heavy and crimson)
as if to say,
the performance is about to begin.
ladies and gentlemen i give you blood.
ladies and gentlemen boys and girls,
i bleed for the wreckage ive left in my wake.
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