The keen blade glimmers slyly in the peeking shafts of light,
Unsheathed and malicious it lies.
Swift and nimble his fingers are,
Beautiful ellipses and fibres tear and falls away as he smites at them with the feral blade.
Blades; like fire, they heed no master.
A slip in contact is life and or death.
Peals of crimson globules accumulate at the exit,
Excited to be unleashed of its imprisonment in veins; free to cajole and oxidise in the open air.
The cheeky tip of the blade embeds itself in flesh, gently scraping against the bone; sending chills that tingler and resonates throughout his nervous system.
A brief pause;
Then nothing.
Erratic Behaviour
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