violentmyth:

                           ^{i   hold   a   razor   to   my   lips   like   it’s   cut   from   a   wishbone   &.    spit   bloodied   shards   from   between   my   teeth   to   make   shooting   stars   in   crimson   &.   silver  .                      there   is   a   shower   of   meteors   in   the   sky   &.   they   singe   my   skin   in   plumes   of   burnished   charcoal  ,                     &.   i   can   smell   metal   on   my   fingertips   &.   taste   brass   on   my   tongue  ,                   &.  all   the   while   i   am   burning   &.  bruising   &.   bleeding  .}