Like I'm not already bleeding
I cut deep to find other words exposed
Slashing down, not across
Little drops form; I watch, remotely interested
As they drip across this sterile page
In arterial flow there is no madness
Completely detached projections
Surgically birthed to conceal the fear
Hiding behind editorial distance
Its just a fucking poem, you know
My worries and insecurities would never
Ooze so wantonly unveiled to a public view
Only the speaker's anonymous verbal suicide
Keeps the professional staff from unplugging
My life-support, an editorial "do not resuscitate"
Like I'm not already drained
I surgically remove emotional hemorrhage
And apply pressure to the literary vein
Skillfully bandaged, already starting to clot.
Call for donors? Sorry, I gave just last week
