ONE KNIVE FOR CUTTING
THE OTHER FOR STABBING
TWO KNIVES HAVE MUCH IN COMMON
BUT ONE KNIVE GOES BEYOND CUTTING
IN FACT, IT’S DESTINY WITH A MISSION
IT’S ****** IN BLOOD BATH
AS THE DOOR OPENS, A KILLER HAS A KNIVE IN HIS HAND
WANTING TO BE UNNOTICED, BUT THE ATTACK TO TAKE EFFECT
THE VICTIM IS ASLEEP IN BED
BUT I WANT ALL TO NOT BE MISLEAD
THIS WILL BE A QUI K AND ANGUISHED STEAD
SLOWLY THE KILLER GETS EVER SO CLOSE TO THE VICTIM
SUDDENLY STAB AFTER STAB WITH THE KNIVE UNTIL
THE VICTIM BLEEDS AND FINALLY DEATH
THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT TO ROB
THE VICTIM NAMED WAS ROB
A KNIVE THAT LITERALLY TOOK SOMEONE’S LIFE
BUT A MORE CALMER KNIVE THAT HAD A SOOTHING ADVICE AND CUTTING DINNER MEAT
THE KNIVE IN A CONTROLLED HAND
THE AFTERMATH BEING DEATH IN THE CARAVAN
NO HONOR, BUT PITY
IT ALL HAPPENED IN A BIG CITY
A KNIVE THAT HAD NO DIRECTION UNTIL POINTED
THE CUTTING EDGE
THE LOSS OF ONE’S PRIVILEDGE
EVIL IN MIND, BUT WHAT ELSE COULD BE COMBINED?

Back when no one spoke of love
because it was too hard to explain,
daddy use to tell stories at the dinner table
using salt and pepper shakers,
and mommy would listen
but I would not,
because children
did not listen to salt and pepper shaker stories.
Maybe if I had listened just a little bit harder
mommy and daddy would still love each other.
But I never listened
and daddy never stayed.

A few years later
daddy still told stories around the dinner table
using forks and knives and empty plates
to people who never cared and never listened
and mommy wasn’t around.
But I still was
and I was the only one to listen.

His stories weren’t of love,
or life
or anything anyone would remember tomorrow
or the next day,
but if I learned anything from those
salt and pepper shaker stories
and the fork and knive tales,
it was
never fall in love

and I never did.

ice water clogs up my veins,
chilling me,
as most rises from my skin at dawn.
cerulean lips that match my eyes
spread over bared diamond teeth,
as I convulse and writhe on the steel table.
ribs crackle and split so suddenly
that not even a sharp gasp
can knive itself
past my throat.
organs fails and shrivel together,
abandoning me,
as gloved hands rip them out
from the incision along my belly.
my once silky tresses
fray and dry
before eventually falling out,
outlining my spasming figure.
grey brain matter numbs and
electrical impulses cease to a halt.
no more thoughts...
no more movements...
just a dead body with a beating heart.

Rose petals
Sharp knive
Sparkling ballgown
Dazzled yet heavy crown
White gloves
Damage heels
Unbearable armor
Complicated manner
Tricky mutuals


you know? being a Princess isn't that easy

I hate reading you my writing. you've seen my skin split but that is nothing compared to this. I won't let you look at me because I am so afraid you might see how sorry I am. you can turn away but guilt is ebbing from your spine and I absorb it's heaving glow. I bet you didn't know flowers grow towards the sun
2. if I could count how many times I think you've lied to me I would need a thousand hands. every finger would be calloused and burnt but veracious. I've dived into glacial waters and lost perception of the surface. when I see the sky, I swim down to touch the sand
3. I once was with a boy who fell into an abyss of addiction. fourteen months of malicious intentions that rendered me to ash. now I am smeared across your mattress and swept into the cracked marble corner of the window sill, kissed by the silk rhythm of the curtains. I am the needles you dropped on your carpet. I would give you all of me but you don't want a fraction. you know, that boy had my ring that said "I Love You" and he tossed it in the lake. I had another that said "Always" and it's somewhere in your home now. the lake will dry before I ever see your bedroom again
4. you have more lyrics memorized than words printed in a novel. the backroads of Carolina are veiled by tree branches but these streets only seem significant when you're singing in the backseat of my car with your head cutting through the wind and your palms caressing the curves of the atmosphere. and after all, she is much more lovely than I. you recite songs we've heard in the exact locations where they flowed through us for the first time, although it's been months since we've listened. you can remember every time we've ever ****** but not one time you've grabbed my hands
5. we fell in love in the winter. it is so **** warm outside. I hate it because I can no longer become entangled beneath blankets heated by your body. you love it because there are a hundred places to be now. all of them without me. but it's the lack of words from you that destroys me much more than your dexterity. if you can kiss the hickeys on my neck why not the scars along my chest? why are there scratches marking up your frame like a road map and knive handles sticking from my back? twist them and I'll scream, cut me and I'll bleed, but nothing you will physically do can ever injure me.
6. there is something about the f word. and I don't mean any of the words you like to yell while you're ambling down the halls or skating down the street. this word: Forever- makes me want to hurl myself off a bridge. I wonder if you would stand there and try to talk me down like the one boy we saw who broke his bones. it was February sixth. It is April and I can't drive past there without wanting to mimick his very moves. maybe I pray for Forever so badly because you would never bless me with it. maybe its because sometimes I feel like my words are a foreign language and you only grow frustrated when I speak. maybe it's because loving you is mostly like sticking a loaded gun down my throat. I often slip into my fathers closet and pull his pistol from it's case just to remember how it feels. but you are far, far more dangerous
7. if you are hearing this you are sitting beside me, or beneath me, and you should know that you have saved me. when I found out you couldn't sleep in your own bed while I was gone (and how you could not write because music is too much like poetry) my brother told me, "good luck loving him as much as he loves you." what he doesn't know is how I can pick you out of a crowd of a thousand in just an instant. everyone asks me why I love you because they don't understand you. I don't understand you. that is why I love you.
8. I have read the minds of stupid boys with loud mouths and pretty smiles but your life is still just foggy windows that I cannot clear. I would love to hear you make promises but I don't think you can keep them. you were with me when you had two girls by your side- how could I ever know where your hands are now when I am not holding them? I would take a bullet for you but you're the one holding the gun. I always kiss you first. I always beg you to stay. but I am constantly so worried that you will slip away.

I have wondered
For so long

How it could be
I aint strong

So I waited
All my life
I got baited
By a knive

It once told me
I'd be good
Sound of glee
I never understood


Hush, now listen
My advice
Blood should glisten
Loose it's ties

I will help you
Letting it flow
This intense hue
I made my vow

You may kneel
On the floor
You won't feel
Any gore

masonry leaves, firecombs,
fire of guts. passion

hair scratch of dying flags
I want a place to knive dive
Into something now

The time is borne
The corn is milkened  the almonds filled
Oklamnic breeze fading
Less than the morrow flajakling is
Getting more understandable

Walking up dawn

The things of our pasts are merging
Confronting
We’re loving the cracked tiles
Of our foundations

But…

All the tears of the savanna
Drip into the cold pool
At the bottom of my heart
I wonna down a bottle fast
Stare at the sun till everything disappears
and all is warmth and light
but the sun of the old yard feels gone
forever

to rødgrønne flasker med et indhold af 6.4% kærlighed
hvide tænder der bed i hvide lagner
varme kroppe der dansede med en illusion af lykke
sorte lunger der slugte mørke tanker
korte arme med en mørkegrå himmel malet på sig
hullede stemmer som blev syet sammen af undskyldninger
disfunktionelle hjerter der prøvede at slå
tomme skeletter og blå shilouetter
kold januar-regn der vaskede alt hvad der mindede om tåre væk
knive med smilende ansigter risede ar på rygsøjlen
spredte ben og lukkede øjne
to rødgrønne flasker med et indhold af 6.4% kærlighed flød i synlige åre
6.4 % kærlighed blev optaget i menneskekroppe
6.4% kærlighed er væk

She was only a kid, her
Sleeves always Rolled down
Its seems like a long time
Since her Dads been around

Moms drunk at her boyfriends,
showing up half the week
When she's home. she's always
screaming, her drunk Breath Reeks

She's afraid on the Pavement,
while she jogs down the street
With thugs selling crack on every
Corner, afraid who she'd meet

With all this Pain and Desolation
seem, to be on every side,
And her Life outta Control
Makes her wonder if she died

So she gets out the Razor Blade
and Rolls up a sleeve
And see's the map of her past
when the Hurt wouldn't Leave

The Blade Pierces the skin, And
the Red Snake proves she can bleed
Feeling the Pain is the only way
she knows she's Alive...

The Salvation she finds comes
from a Sharp Steel Knive
In this deep black whole,
its her only way to control

What a shame that its all
for this poor young Soul

Tallerken, gaffel, glas og krus.
Gryder, pande, høj og lav.
Køleskabet min bedsteven.
Ovn, vask og ske.
Rindende vand og plaster på såret.
Skærebræt og store knive.
Blod på bordet, blod på salaten.
Et højt irriteret brøl.
Tekopper, kaffekopper, grimme kopper, flotte kopper.
Skåle og dybetallerkner.
Vandkander, brødkrummer og forgamle rester.
Morgen, aften, nat og dag.
Altid og aldrig.
“tøm skraldespanden inden du går!”