typhoid this knife in my hands
sharp blade, knick knick scratch
a single finger points the way
gleaming shadows of the day
fade as it is night
first s trickle, then a spatter
a downpour onto the flowers
the roses are already red
Tiffa The cold ring of steel
pervading the silence does
not move me. I stay.

Another erotic thing is the feel of cold steel on one's body It turns me on like no other...
brill sparse bloody_potato_chip 010102
god foam 011018
mahdi preparation. fate.
by the sacred hilt i swear i will not rest until we're free.
ever dumbening i run my hand across the thick bar-stock, following the gentle curve to the ground-down end where it meets a leaf. i feel the back where the weld is. fine work.

i trace the line of stitches that run the circumference of the lavender-mint, silk eye bag that she handed me to take a sliver of the edge off the headache. spectacular pinot noir finished the last waking moments.

i enter her again.

i love how the generations of wisdom cascade down and enter my eyes to appreciate, re-interpret, relearn. as we weave in and out of time and mindfulness.
unhinged i grew up in the rust belt
i've seen the effects of broken steel for my entire life

and my generation grew up with heroes like kurt and trent and billy; no wonder we all can't find the will to live
snarl. hello emo. 050609
thieums Steel, HAH! So barbaric.
-- a piece of copper
unhinged in my eyes
in my heart
in my blood
what's it to you?
who go