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April 2007 This isn't exactly supposed to be sinister, but I think the fact that I think blood is cool might come across as a little sketchy. |
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It’s nothing like poppies or apples. No, it’s more like rust or seaweed, this red around my fingernails. Still, it’s brighter, somehow. Laced with gold, and not unlike the ocean. Not unpleasant, but somehow off: It’s not the moon through the window, this red around my fingernails. It’s sharp as opposed to soft. Still sibilant, I see, Despite the difference. The same way, it lies perfectly along the lines in my skin – looks vaguely, gently, subtly sinister, in the best possible manner. See? No one was hurt. Who knows where it came from? It was there when I woke, This red around my fingernails. That’s what makes me wish I could leave it. See, You don’t need flowers and fruit for happiness, Nor do you need rust and seaweed for disgust. Both of which come just as easily to this red around my fingernails. Until I wash it regretfully off in the bathroom sink, the strange captivation turning paltry as it dilutes, and runs – poppies, rust, ocean, all of them down the drain with This red around my fingernails. |