I broke one of my dad's razors.
I couldn't stand it anymore,
so I picked it apart with
my scissors and pulled away
the deformed plastic frame.
I stole the glimmering blade
and bent it like paper
between my fingers.
I was intoxicated by the
sight of it. I pressed it
tentatively against my skin,
like the feather light touch
of a lover, and caressed my
veins with it's edge.


I can't stop.