This is what I'm capable of creating when I text writers

I bleed the darkest of reds, the red seen in your eyes. It drips down vintage tubs onto lifeless leaves it is there that I see you. Your word in my cigarette, clinging to the smoke that poisons my air. You know how I know I could kill you? Because you could kill me. We are on opposite ends with the same intentions, with the same curse. Our weapon of choice nothing short than a poets dagger, I could eat your cells and they’ll grow on my body as if they were my own we could become a deformed masterpiece birthed from our grieving flesh