Twist the Blade

Once more, one more effort,

when the month ended, that

one year, I held the knife in

front of the mirror, five year

old shaver, thrust into adult

hood, collapsed below weight,

in a mouth of madness, no safe

nor sane person in sight, just

a slap, a push, ruffians ramble,

but in summer I tried, sunken

in tanning oil, through screen

doors, supplanted, my wits,

a crass game, summer trouble,

I’ll forget you one day, when

the mirror finally breaks, when

I sink, sullen blackened body,

gored like smut, moot at once,

flowers sink sweet, and die

in rhapsody, sick benign death,

vanity in repose, propose to me,

through smoke and fire, and

let me finally tell this story,

this romance, aloft on craggy

cliffs, asunder and burning

bright, no moonlight leading,

no daylight bleeding, and in

the corner, back to the world,

tiny body, tiny heart, alone.

~ by Shawn M. Young on January 22, 2018.

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