A shadow of screeching silence in a silhouette of all my fears a nocturnal coronation of widow wax dark as the ferries of night of my fleshless anatomy dragging my melting crayon wrapped in loneliness listening to the agony as it drips my forgettable
The cold silver blade sits there in front of me.I know what its job is, and what it has to do to me.Picking up the blade with two of my fingers.Tracing the blade gently across my other fingers. Bringing the blade up to my lips, and giving it a soft kiss.I smile and know, the blade will soon bring me amazing bliss.The blade from my hand, goes down to my wristAnd with the pressure from my hand, I push the blade down on my w...
