Last night I had to cut open a body.
The cadaver begged me not to
But
There's some days I don't understand Even the whimpers of a corpse.
Its high pitched yelp was drowned out by the comedy playing in the background.
The smooth blade intruded the skin.
I saw a tear drop roll from its decaying eye;
I wish I'd wiped it away.

Dear flower
They were wrong about you
You didn't bloom
You didn't need to
you're still beautiful
but they've ruined your image
With opportunities you were never  given
"Maybe next spring"
You hear those words over and over
There would be no other option
They've planted seeds in your mind
Of everything you've done wrong
But what about everything you've done right?
In your short life
You never reached their standards
But you've reached mine

there's blood drying under my nails and i can still taste the blood in my mouth
i keep scratching and clawing at myself
a self-induced appearance of leprosy without the actual disease
i'm biting my lips, my mouth, my nails
there are strips and chunks of my own flesh sticking in my throat
i guess you could say it's a bit ironic that i'm choking on myself, that i'm slowly turning myself inside out
maybe if i just scratch harder, scrape faster
(scratch and sniff but with flesh and blood)
god i need to see open wounds I need to open every single bump in my skin
i yank out my hair and eat the skin off my fingertips but it's ok i don't need it
i claw open the side of my face and i don't need it, i don't need any of it
i need to smell blood, to touch it, taste it
i tripped and scraped my knee open and let me tell you i savored that moment
i hate getting hurt but i love the aftermath
sore throbbing fingers and blood in my mouth that's what i live for
jesus bled from every pore and i envy him
i'm a monster but the only one i'm killing is myself so it doesn't really matter
i don't really matter
maybe if i scratch enough i'll dig a better person out of this skin and maybe they won't smell like death
maybe they will be whole and maybe they'll be able to stand it
one, two, three new scabs on my shoulders, my neck, my face
one, two, three scars on my arms, my legs,  my back
i'm no vampire but i still need blood on my hands and it's sure as hell not innocent blood because it's mine
one of these days i'm going to fall apart and i mean that literally
gnawing on my own bones will take it's toll i'm going to collapse in a pile of my own organs and i'm going to enjoy it
it will smell like blood

i can feel someones heart beating from 2000 miles away

You can never love a dreamer
He's always far away
You can never love a seeker
He wanders everyday


Never love a writer
His lines are not for you
His verses are pure lies
His ink is far from true

You cannot love me either
I live in many worlds
A dreamer, seeker, writer
I often break my word..

i'm bleeding,
there is blood all over the floor
one cut
two cuts
three cuts
four
come on darling whats one more
five cuts  
six cuts
seven cuts
eight
what a mess this will create
my beautiful picture is almost done
i went to 20 cuts
now its 40
i stopped counting after 120

I brandished my crude sword
which was a pen
and wiped away the bloodstains
which were ink