Sunday, September 5, 2010


it cuts thin and deep,
this razor blade.
it goes through the boxes,
in my soul.
there is no pain,
though it disorganizes...
my pre-conceived notions,
alchemic potions,
which led me to untruths,
which i embraced.
they're all now debased,
for now i can see...
and it is not good,
my "mindself" snaps wood,
'gainst the machine,
all sleek and mean,
made out of steel,
my heart-blood congeals,
at the thought of this.
I cannot exist, in bliss,
with subsets like this...
the concept of the razor blade.
i pick it up,
after i sup,
dig into the skin,
i watch it go in,
so tenderly,
it's razor and me.
in this tub of mist,
now i've been kissed,
by my lover of doom,
who slowly consumes,
while my little wounds open,
and my red blood drips.
oh!...the beautiful lips,
of my sexy friend,
her name is the end.
i am resting so calm,
no need for alarm,
it's a little thing,
this razor blade.
the water turns red,
like moses said,
i enter my sleep,
so calm in the deep.
just razor and me,
we part the red sea.


  1. Hey Rich...did somebody find you in time?

  2. yeah mike...i didn't bleed out!!...after shopping with my wife today, I wish i did!