Juvenilia

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I wished I had his license plate or some thing more
tangible to cut the aching on. What a great gesture to
bleed on my black leather jacket from a self-inflicted
wound. Veins ripped open at the wrist with a corner of
his licence plate. His number, my blood. *Sigh*
---------- Notice I said veins not arteries.
I do not plan to pump a lot a blood for this sucker just
enough so that he finds me in the lot he works at.
Vulnerable next to his machine and he takes me in his
arms or he rolls me over with the toe of his boot and
guns his engines as I sob.