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Open Poetry #1
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utopianangel
New Member
since 1999-06-22
Posts 3
Arizona

0 posted 1999-06-22 07:05 PM


As I slit my wrist
Slowly and circumspect
I wonder where I am going
No where or somewhere
People have their faiths
I am not them

Some men are givers
Some women are lovers
I am neither man nor woman
Neither giver nor lover

The razor blade is sharp
Just as my smile
This must make me happy, this one last adventure

People have their indulences.
Bring on the beer.
Bring on the crack.
Give me the razors.

Since the slit; since the smile
Blood drips, tears do not
People contain blood, people contain feelings
I am not them
I am already dead-
Buried in saddness

------------------
Rachel

© Copyright 1999 utopianangel - All Rights Reserved
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