The Anemic Knife

I float forever, suspended in air,
My body, Anemic and weak,
One swipe of my steel friend and my blood spills,
I'm the king of the empty stree,
Staggering through the alley,
My blood spills openly,
The 34th street of emotion,
My shirt matches my blood,
I lick the blood off my kriss,
The chrome with plattered specs of the soul,
I stagger and fall on my lovers grave,
And die with the sight,
Of her ghost in the fog.