• the razor against my beige skin, gives me hope through a light that is dim
    The only refuge seems to be in this blade trimmed thin.
    As it presses against the vain i hope that it will penetrate,
    alas the cut to shallow and is only enough to break the skin.
    I watch the blood begin to cry out in droplets and run across
    my willing arm. I keep the razor as a good luck charm. As the
    the cutting comes to an undesirable end and i see no real harm.