Cutting to Existence

Cutting to Existence

My little brother cuts himself into existence.

With razor tongue I try to shave his pain,

he wouldn't listen.

His ears are woolen screams, the wrath

of heartbeats breaking to the surface.

His own Red Art.

When he cups his bleeding hands

the sea of our childhood

wells in my eyes

wells in his veins

like common salt.

© Prof. Sam Vaknin, 1997–2026. Free, non-commercial reproduction permitted under CC BY-NC 4.0 with author credit and a link back to this site.