I thread a vein out through a scalpel notch;
and use it as a ribbon to present my heart to you.
I cough a little spare blood. I didn't need it.
I lick the copper from my silenced subterfuge mouth
and it reminds me of the prostitution of my soul
as I pour myself over other men's empty hands
in the dying hope that someone might hold on.
I smear my wrist against a digital canvas and cry;
I give it all to you freely, and nothing in return.
You smile. I break. You hear but you don't listen;
you just throw another single penny for my thoughts.