The Collector

(I wrote this poem back in the days when I did not have my chest tattooed, so a while ago hehehe. But I edited it today. So an old pic for an old-new poem. Enjoy!)

.
.
.
You make me touch
your hand for stupid reasons,
you laugh while pressing
my keys,
from my chest gore,
from my mouth filthy smoke;
You came to collect my...

You make me touch
your hand for stupid reasons,
you drink up my patient
and spit suspension around,
from my eyes caves;
You came to collect my...

You make me cling
my jaw for stupid reasons,
you wrap me around the barbed wire
of your warmth,
you kiss me with your teeth,
you wax away my last
hair of humanity;
You came to collect my...

You make me
be in danger for stupid reasons,
I wear the straight jacket you gave me
on our anniversary,
your bracelet stuck to my skin,
the scars close by my forearm
so symmetric;
You came to collect my...
for stupid reasons.

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