Right now I want to cut myself,
deep.
I'd like to drop lit,
wooden kitchen matches
onto my willing abdomen
and watch
my flesh melt
away.

Something has to give.

Bind me to an iron cross
and flay my skin.
Strike my joints
with a metal rod
until I am
completely broken.

This cannot last.

I'd like to grab
hold of the flesh
under my jaw
and rip my ugly face
off of my ugly head.
I want to pound nails
into my knees,
chew on thumb tacks,
skewer my eyes
with toothpicks.

I spent an hour
scraping calloused feet
and toes when I could
have cut them off
with a pruner
and saved some time.

I'd like to do these
things, but I am
not a *******
I am no victim.
I am no martyr.
I am not so deep
in The Nothing.

I would rather
perform these acts
upon you.