The Sinking Razor

Back and forth

Swings the razor’s edge

Cutting every second

In perpetual rhythm.

Sleeping in distress,

No syllable expressed

Of the grinding apparatus

Against our bosom.

Frivolous in deeds,

Expedient in needs,

As the pendulum swings

Deeper through the chest.

Insouciant appearing,

Lacerations searing,

Tickling tender nerves

And numbing all the rest.

Revelry in laughter

Midst superficial chatter,

Ticking ever onward

And bleeding fibers pale.

Gaiety and madness

In masochistic gladness,

Sinking through the heart,

Defiant shallowness impaled.

 

 

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “The Sinking Razor

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