Knives to Buy

I am a stupid idiot.
with a black eye.
on the Long Island Railroad.

I text you sometimes,
your old number,
just to remind you I exist.

Rip my bones, dont respond,
and don't let these fists
hit away my hopes.

I am eventually
made out of shipwrecks,
and soap.

But I know you read this shit.
And so I go.

502 crimes.
wrestle bears and be better.
find love and give it up.

don't be stupid.
be me. be you.
I welcome the terrible.

don't be Kentucky.
don't be me.
same arms.