Ethan

Who Will Wipe This Blood Off Us?

 

Slice my skin and peel the layers back,

Tabula razor, bleached onion. 

Poor and white as melting snow,

The shavings slip off smoothly.

Ah, the air stings my insides.

Plasma, run true. Strike your mark

With delicious drops of goodness,

Pollock, Quentin, Jean-Luc.

Il n'est pas de sang, il est rouge.

To bleed or not to bleed, that is digestion.

Blood, blood, wet my feet.

Spread your paint across my sheet

So I can finally fall asleep.

Comments1

  • AAA

    THIS IS INSANELY GOOD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    • Ethan

      !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you.



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