June 3, 2012


I think about what "Sharp" must taste like. I think about my uvula pinning saw-shaped letters to my tongue as they march up my throat like warriors. "Sharp" is the blood spat from a slice of words, bled in tailored ribbons to a helpless (and perhaps guilty) victim. It is "Sharp" that wins the clashing banter, the tweaker of features to signal "Smug" and "Satisfied"... Where the eyes ease to the pause of slim slits, the mouth a narrowed ream of a split stem, curling as a wilting petal, dead with the finality of the quarrel. "Sharp" is victory, is quick wit, is ruthless. A murder of speech and a shot gun clothed in a silencer.

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