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Writer's pictureKlaus

Fake Suicides

You needed at least 3

to really stay alive, he said.


Broken glass was perfect

in its razor blade geometry


A jagged champagne flute

sliced the skin at the bar

The ravers ran as roaches do

at the flick of the lights


Shattered dreams

upon a new year


Well, he said, at least the blood

stopped hurting.




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