My Blade Is Dull
The wind has stopped
The woods are still
Snowflakes are coming down hard
Like shards of white thunder
My heartbeat is ticking off
The ebb and flow of my life
I pull the beast of my manhood
Oout of its lair
It lies in my hand flaccid and shrivelled
A stumpy story of self-reduction
Slice by slice
Like tiny bricks of flesh and blood
I build the shrine of my art
The mortar of pain
Binds the days of agony
Michelangelo and Leonardo
Painted joy and beauty
With keen eyes
And bristly brushes
I sculpt torment
My blade is dull
My blade is dull
My blade is dull
Autor(es): Mark Englander
