I want one sharp enough
to cut through this garbage import porcelain,
I want one sharp enough
to cut through god.

Ain't even hungry yet,
just desperate to cut
something uncuttable
into beautiful pieces.

Poly grip feels good
in my aging hands,
are you sharp enough
my shining friend?

Serrations are preferred,
whetstones and gravel.
Gimme something to slit.
Something to bloodlet.

Something whole,
something begging for
division.

Something to flex my arm into.

I love you silly
with your jaw jutted out
and your lips smushed up
and your eyes crossed.
I love you silly,
when you make me laugh
you also make my heart sing.

The road of indecisiveness
is paved with dead squirrels.

They watch me,
at the counter.
In my car.
Under bridges.
Standing in line.

They watch me,
watching movies.
Playing games.
Visiting family.
Checking the time.

They watch me,
in the field.
On the freeway.
In the plains.
Out to sea,
they always see.

Glass lenses
are always watching me.

I'm not worth the mention,
tell me:
How are you doing lately?

It's my fault.

Always has been,
always will be.

But I'll try my damnedest
to come up with a good excuse.
To push all the blame on to you.

Jacketed in scale.
Wire wheel.
Self-etching primer.
New seals.
One coat,
high temp enamel.
Paint it black,
hit the track.