Arm outstretched,

pale eyes defeated,

is it veins

or anguish

that's unclotted and bleeding,

 

staining ivory skin

and numbing the sound

of memories tainted

woven and bound

to the girl in the corner

who's desperate to drown.

 

Yet as the high rises

so must it fall

and the ivory of her arm

she will stab once more,

 

around the corner

and across the street,

my generation is dying

with every needle that seeps.