Fans & Things

The shiny metal blade
Where do I find such mundane
Things,
Which let pain breathe?
1, 2, maybe 3?
Could one be deeper than deep?
I think over my wristful thinking,
It’s not me—
To be not me.
I can’t help, I
don’t want to be—
An array of straight-line scars,
Shining and the sun pales in comparison.
Say hello to my new crimson.