The Reciept Pillow Smother

I have two lines that
Burn in two different inks,
Crashing like atoms
In razor blade sinks.

Bound in a book,
In a pocket of trust.
A pawn was a rust cook
Bubbling carbon to genius.

A rook that crooks
With a torch to his skull.
I Reach arm above eye
Dip from my inkwell.

Acquire taste for scratching retinas
With my pen tip I'm risking tetanus.