what a carnivore he is-
he says he loves to watch me sleep

at night my skin he slits
with a thousands knives in hand

he’s traveled across my land
love he says he’s found none

the fool – he thinks i do not know
how my words flow

they tap&dance&laugh as he kills
my narrative with a kiss
or so he thinks

cuts&bruises&tears&pain have this kind of power you see
the more you
the more I breathe
the more I write
the more I live

you, carnivore, you, murderer,you, fool! listen!
the rhythm of ink induced on paper
my voice is loud, my blood is dry
your precious daggers are in me
but listen!

i can’t ever die, you little man
kill me all you want
i am poetry, i am life