Hi, my name is Jacob & Imma wrist cutter.
Once a cutter, always a cutter.
Addiction, this is kind of like
A.A
but
get rid of the first
A
and replace it with a W.C
and there you have it.
W.C.A.

Our mission is to get all
the active cutters
to cut it out.
Cut, slice, and skin
bad ****
not your body.
It's beautiful without the scars.
& You
DESERVE
to die in a better way.


No one should leave the earth,
passed out,
blue,
cut up
burnt up
dried out
thrown out.
Passed out ,
drowning in a pool of your own blood
is not a glorious end
to a magnificent person.
Cut out cutting.
The Love Cult has
plenty
of band-aids
if you ever wanted to come visit.
Stay a while.
You'll <3 The Love Cult.

I doubt the words on the page, correctly portrays, the images of the hand that wrote them.

Silent lips
Deaf ears, and
Blind eyes are
The merit of the creator as
He namelessly transmits his
Inner thoughts to his outer audience

My pen does not move for your applause
It moves for your focus
The thought pattern in this movement
Is more, and less, of my faceless existence

I can listen to what you want me to hear
But that doesn't mean that I am there, for that reason

I am a giver of many words and
A taker of many woes
I promise I could never fit a profile

The words I write are chameleon
They change to what you believe they say
The body I possess is chameleon
It changes to fit whatever pleasures you extract

No matter the length of time you stare
No matter how close you get
You will never find me.
XIN

I'm what they call a triple thread,
a truant, a nuisance, a better off dead.
i must admit i have alot of ugly addictions
tied to altered visions stuck inside daydream yet these doses don't phase me
but yes, they are my preference,
light headed for my happiness
and thats a ****** shame.
all substances are a demonic game
dancinn with the devil
i let him spin me around
n id rather sit here  
distancing myself from the reality

so i just
take a dip inside a strip
make em pupils twice as big

im hearin many voices
but i havent made a sound
consumed by the noises
in my mind they got me bound
a different persons awakened now
n i aint acid rap but i just necked a couple tabs.

I thought of her the other day.
Not you, the girl I met last May.
Wise and kind,
Her beauty shined.                    
Missing my sweet May,
I hope we rekindle someday.

"YOU ARE THE MUSIC WHILE THE MUSIC LASTS."

'Ah, did you once see Eliot plain,
And did he stop and speak to you?'

Well...no...not actually.
Well...kinda...sorta.

Crossing the street
in a sudden shower

amidst the trill of bicycle bells
the honk honk of motor cars.

"Oi! Watch where
y'are going love!"

And there stood Eliot
frozen in time

balanced on his toes
crossing and not crossing

a bit like an undecided
procrastinated Prufrock.

He looked exactly
like himself

like a photo come alive
an annonymous bowler hatted man.

An unused umbrella
perched on the crook of an arm

He appeared both calm
and alarmed.

As if a poem had
crossed his mind

interrupting his crossing
among the plop of large raindrops.

I wanted to quote his words to him
to say somehow I know his mind.

And for all of that second
he was mine.

As if I owned the very
essence of him.

I took him by the arm.
Reminded him he had an umbrella.

It was as if I was talking to
a somewhat forgetful God.

"Mmm yes...mmm
thank you my dear!"

'How strange it seems, and new!'
as Mr. Browning once remarked.