i forgot to take off my sunglasses.

A Poem by C4

i like the idea of blood on my hands.

"...and when i was trying to put something away on the top shelf of my closet, the box hit the light and the whole thing fell and broke all over the place. there's glass in my shoes and glass in my hair and glass in my furs. it'd be one thing if it was thick glass because then i could clean it up but it isn't. it's thin lightbulb glass (that my brain wants to spell with a 'c' as 'class') and it's almost like snowflakes only it'd probably cut me to pieces and i'd bleed all over the carpet. that was probably three hours ago, and i don't think i'll ever get out the vacuum to clean it." i like the idea of blood in my shoes and blood, on my hands.