Until the Last Drop

Play until you’re bloody,

fingers sliced like meat at a deli.

Dance, round and round

shoes slick and swollen with bloody toes.

Don’t stop.

In and out, in and out with needle and thread,

never crying over stitched fingers.

Type through swollen blisters,

letting raw skin ooze and sluff away.

Don’t stop.

This is the only thing in the

world people desire from you.

Bleed into your work, but

never dare to ask too much in return.

Don’t stop.

Give them everything, wrist to elbow.

Do they know veins run dry?

Don’t stop.

Profit was never the why.

To touch another being,

one other person to feel our soul...

For them we don’t stop, we bleed.

But too many of us die,

last words written in red.

We can’t stop.