snip
snip
snip
my scissors go to work,
cutting away
the people "i don't need"
but blood is staining the paper
and only some of it is theirs.

I am the glue that holds your mind together,
You are the scissors that slash my sadness apart.

Like swimming upstream,
Going against the grain,
Walking through a festival's crowd,
I cut into the package,
But I couldn't get through.
It was stuck.
Pressure
Would not
Suffice,

So it

Snapped.

Everything is imperfect-
The space
Between your eyes.
The crooked white
Inside your half-smile.
The paper-cutting
Scissor bangs
That frame your face.

You chopped them late
In a dim-lit bathroom.
Flickering neon against the blade.

Tucking tongue under breath,
Chunks of midnight strands
Refracting grey-silver dreams
Fell to the floor like splinters
Hurled from breaking wood.

With crescent moons
Formed on each cheek,
The mirror smiled.

Dark clouds drift overhead
I am looking up
You are looking down
We should be looking ahead

For your sake
For my sake
Four our sakes

I look down
You look up
We make eye contact
Before turning away again

Here we are again
I guess you can hear the violence within in my silence
I don't hear anything from you

Maybe I'm deaf
Maybe I stopped listening to others
Who knows

I don't want to let go
Yet here I am
Thinking and thinking

Looking down at the red thread
Holding the scissors in my hand
Unsure of what to do

Crafting scissors
Gardening shears
A pizza roller
Instruments of humble vivisection
I wield, I rend, I create.
Needles and pins,
Nimble and thin,
I pierce, I pull, I close.
With measured patience
I choose my weapons:
Ink, passion, time, and wit.
An armory of precision and gut.
Boulders bruise but roll away,
Fire burns, but I'm already ablaze,
Arrows lodge shallow or all fall short,
But the cold?
It slices.
The draining thought:
Is this the end of my creation -
Is there no more?
I slowly bleed out.

i slept with scissors on my bed
just to see.
to wake up in a new cut.
just to see
if danger is a true concept
if a surprise is something real.

i did sleep with scissors on my bed
because i have a tendency to move around a lot;
just to see
if the blade would try to kiss my rib
to quiet me down;

just to see
if fire really burns;
just to see
if what runs inside my veins
hasn't disappeared yet.
what i saw
was that it is better to sleep with scissors
than to wake up by my own.