intersection_of_blade_and_skin wingedSerpent knife in hand spinning the point of the blade against the tip of my finger, wishing i had red or black ink to fill one of my insulin needles and stake out the stripe over my eye as a permanent fixture balance the knife on the tip of my index finger, feel the micro-serrations chewing up the lands and grooves of my fingerprint, rock the blade over exposed flesh and watch the little droplets rise like beads of perspiration on a hot day's icewater in the glass this is a poem i scrawl in blood and spit, words spoken through the acid rasp of bile swallowed back before it can be vomited forth this is the bright hidden wings of the moth this is the boiling spray from the bombardier beetle these are my eyes glowing red in the dark 030606 what's it to you? who go blather from