I’m tired of the forever dripping blood that runs from my arms
They gather like clouds, merging
They move over my fingers
Down my thighs
Into my lungs
Their pit-plat-pit-plating melodiously ruins my thoughts
I know that you’ll be astonished
Or not
But I like cutting myself, mentally
Not that I ever draw blood
It’s the neat pattern that sears my soul
The knowledge that I can bleed myself hungry
That I can fixate on my physical hurtings rather than the cold
Dangerously addictive, powerfully so
When can I get my next hit because the skin I love
is strengthening
I know I’m nothing special
Believe me, its been pretty clear but
Is it a crime that I want more and more and more and more and more and more
Am I tired of life?
I’ve become anticipatory in awaiting my demise
Is that insensitive?
Is it uncalled for from just a 16-year-old nothing
But I think, breathe, shout
It’s satisfying to know that suffering can end with just a push of a button
A swish of a knife
I blow from the gasket
A kiss from the man you hate to love
I want to love someone, unconditionally and whole heartedly
At least once
I used to write, once upon a dream
I want to now
But it doesn’t happen anymore
I want to leave and never come back
But I have to be smart
Generous, forgiving, oblivious
I want to continue breathing but at the same time I want a continuous
Hiccup to last.