Have a Knife Day!
by Ryan Buynak
Limb to limb
and mouth to mouth,
I awake Monday.
This knife is made out of an old
And this knife is made of an old
My knees are made of bone, and sinew.
and you are like a candle
Got a local haircut,
went to drown in Midtown;
ate lunch in the middle
of a thousand sad sandwiches.
Hustle here and swamp there,
while the epidermis whiles away.
I sweat at the temple,
cutting twice as nice.
Collar bones be pretty
and equal headaches,
cut my boredom with loud life.
He’s thirty plus one:
A girl sits in the sun,
her body seems to melt
onto the ledge like a Hershey’s kiss.
I watch this.
Another gal had the bottom half of her
jet-black hair dipped in hot pink.
Another had a thick layer of makeup
covering her beautiful ugly face.
The myriad microscopic day
runs away with my muse minutes.
Cut me ten by thee.
Ryan Buynak is a terrible person who happens to be the future of American poetics. He lives and leaks in New York City.