Just Breathe and Sing

I let my knife sing
When I can't
Talk.
And yet...
there's little to
attest.
Witness
Once in a blink
The gold tooth grin
She keeps 
Spread and hides
In -- depends
on what's 
Said.

One girl 
ground to sand 
to make a pearl 
from the irritation
Of what
remains.

Let's call it 
Last week's
Last straw.
Cunt razors
Or did she
Have fangs?
That would explain
All the crying,
Teething.
But
This week
Makes last's
Weak.

Calloused
To treat the rough as smooth.
Scarred for texture,
a bit of depth,
peaks and valleys
Tickle the knives.

One boy
bled to color
A ghost who'll
always 
Haunt.

Two leeches
With no sense of
Mirrors
Feed
Recycling.
Whose blood is whose?
Drink and drain,
Stab and suck,
Walk it off
Waking mid-step.
Who is with whom?
Or is too
Similar
Like being
By yourself?
Hence the drain
Circling --
just enough
To float.

Feet off the ground...
Stop gears!
Welcome rust.
Don't process
The second before next.
Just take this
and breathe... singing.