I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.

Hurt me
The wretched hand suffocates pleading lips
I gasp for air as the blood drips

Curse me
Unwanted whispers escape with my breath
Now's the time, I pray, slow death

Control me
Speeding, drive myself off the road
Burning mind, burning sight, it's my soul you corrode

I'm not possessed, I'm death obsessed.
I don't want to die, but I still fantasize.
I didn't ask for this, apathy created my abyss.
It's not me, at the altar still I'd plea.
It's my demons, laughing at my mortal misery.

It is the Muses
who have caused me
to be honred: they
taught me their craft

You were always loving me "despite"
I needed you to love me "because"