I See You Wield the Knife

May I have your signature?
Carve it 'cross my counter-top.
Leave a name and home address;
a valid place to ring and rot.
And when you've done your carving up;
I'd ask you to dig toward the pink.
There I'd hope you'd find a knot -
and maybe you'd untangle it?
And maybe then we'd feel a breeze
as all capacities increase -
every major snag and block,
afflictions and all resignations;
in vibrant bursts they'd go from me,
like fireworks made out of nerves;
booms defused by gaping distance,
blood that's dotted by the sparks.
You'd be thrown back from your stool
as I'm lifted like a vapor,
the burden gone - its weight removed,
and all holds on me so severed through.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

It took me three tries to get this bastard to submit.

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