I bleed blood,
that sanguine sweet.
I run red—
what do you bleed?
when you pull back your hands,
do you see the shade of me?
my pigment on your fingertips,
the color you need.
as seconds pass, I grow closer.
to what, I cannot see.
maybe time unstains,
maybe it's the dish soap i leave
all over my face and back and hands—
my Fucking Hands
THEY DO NOT WANT YOU.
THEY DO NOT WANT YOU, FOR I AM ME.
I bleed blood,
that sanguine sweet.
what do you bleed?
