maxmundan

Drawing the razor across my face,
I wince as I take,
not only blond hairs but
a sizable chunk of flesh as well.
If my objective was to
make the sense of alienation
as apparent on the outside
as it is at my core,
then the sticky blood
slowly dripping over my lips
certainly conveys the message.

That’s the funny thing
about blood.
It’s so easy, so cheap,
to sacrifice a little
when you need some
for your rituals but
the result it buys,
in horrified and repulsed respect,
from your now attentive audience,
is worth it’s weight in gold.

Looking at me now,
you can tell there is something
slightly off about me but
you can’t put your finger on
exactly what it is.
Engaging me in discussion
to determine my affliction is,
in all likelihood,
more trouble than it’s worth.

I am carving a
“Do Not Disturb” sign
into my face because
you have shown very little interest
in what I have to say and
I have grown weary endeavoring
to meet with your approval.
I have decided to capitulate and
remove my disguise,
in the vain hope you will now understand
what I can’t find the words to say.

Max Mundan, Shaving My Eyebrows

© David Rutter 2014

Follow me on twitter @dmr226

(via maxmundan)

And the hoary eyed fuck of a devil rides the addicts shoulder relentlessly
And the hoary eyed fuck of a devil vows never to get off
And the hoary eyed fuck of a devil oh he’s so heavy

Let me tell you though
The hoary eyed devil gets lighter with the passing time
The only thing permanent about the fuck of a devil
Is his voice his ever so sinful and demanding voice
Even that fades away
Never gone
But faded
Almost incomprehensible
In the drowning turbulence of
Life without addiction