Slices

a legacy
of sharp edges:
run your fingers
along the desk
until it bleeds.
your tattoo:
love is all
you need.
I whistle the
theme to Requiem
for a Dream
and pop pills
until my hands
smell of
peanut
butter and rum
splashes
into my
hungry eyes
feed me something
new

 

(originally published in The Oddville Press, Spring 2019)

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