Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "then I’ll make it up myself"!
«I’m not doing it
to be edgy,» she says
as she applies a
Hello Kitty sticker to the
blade of a
hunting knife, right
across the edge
and starts
licking and slurping at it
She said she
found the knife
inside the tin box
that held her father’s
ashes
I think he was some
army dude
She did tell me how he
died
but somehow every time
she did it
the story was different
Probably because she only
spoke of it
when she was drunk
or on some other shit
The knife was
her old man’s prized
possession, I was told
«Once he used it like a saw
to cut his own hand
off,» she said.
«But he bled too much
and just passed out.»
«Damn. Why though?»
«Don’t speak of it in
vain!»
«Uh, sorry. So why exactly
did he do it?»
She watched the knife, the
sticker applied to the
blade. Smelled it
and rubbed it against
the side of her face, eyes closed
and recalling memories
pleasant to her only
Read the full poem HERE!
Thank you!
Daydreaming as a profession 