Cutters do not always use blades…
Sometimes they use finger nails or other peoples teeth to breach skin
It is the sensation of opening
Pain flowing warm and wet on the dermis, a thirst for fluids of one’s own naked that inspires the urge
I’ve watched the greatest minds in my generation crackle along blade edges like synapsis
There multiple cells gaping and closing borders
There bodies masterworks of grief and lost hope
Stones they cast in to the raging sea.
I’ve known those who’ve researched rebirth
Driven by frantic urges to claim knowledge of their own ending
Who with grave intent by bullets for protection for something they cannot have and live.
No, cutters do not always use blades to open bodies to air
Await for red reassurance with smoke in their hair
The broken and the loss of a thousand yard stare sometimes cut open the earth to see if Hell is truly there.
Some bare rebirth between tiny heart beats
Moving like moonlight over a housing project
Revealing only what we refuse to see
The wrist, the vain of a whole city cut off from nourishment
I tell you cutter don’t always use blades
Sometimes they use stones to stifle suffering
Messianic cries for Truth in this new world
See I have known Trevors, cast like rocks against windows just to watch them shatter
Jeremy’s dangling like question marks and what does it matter
I’ve seen the shining and desperate standing at the precipice staring into the void
Invisible ones
Daughters of noise blowing fire into night skies
Fervent S.O.S’s of dream dragons lilting on clouds
Night skates pulled through nostrils
Pushed into veins, Negro speaks of rivers of pain
The lost ones speak of inhuman stains
Atlas carrying the whole world
No strain for there are some who carry the universe in Labyrinthian brains
Minatour are devils they rome halls unclaimed
Cut from the same mold as the first human clay creature, sucking the air right out of God’s mouth
Touching the fat and muscle finger of Michael Angelo’s imagination
Psychedelic purple haze popping pills with no prescription
Cutting cocaine on pocket mirrors but do they see their own reflection
Narcissist got wet and drowned
Call this the end of introspection
I’ve watched them sweep across the skin like noon time shadows
Clearing the fields of memory until the bear earth shows and they have sold their soil to the caverns of their soul
Looking inward to find dark matter churning between the stars and in short they were afraid
In two words they were “damned terrified”
And in a question “Could it have been any different?”
Slay the dragon
Take the bow
Call true what you have known so long to be lies
Save yourself
Hold a heart beat in an oil slick hand
Call yourself a dreamer and let your memories confess
For cutters do not always use blades I tell you
Sometime they use their breath
“There is no great understanding if I cannot see the architect of the universe in my neighbor.”
“Attempts to cure poverty, but doing nothing about greed. Thank God insanity is exact.”
R-EDGE
