I'm trying to bleed
running from scar to scar
searching for a rip
a trip in the seams
I'm fumbling with locks
and not enough keys
attempting to untie the knots
watching rotted stitches pop as I grip taut cuts and pull...
There's nothing there...
How the **** am I supposed to care
when I can barely bleed
But the chemicals rush too good
flush through my veins
leaving me breathless where I stood
and now I've left
too numb to sort feelings from the mess
But everything is so on track
every lesion every tear every hidden crack
fills in with pills
focus on the thrill
don't bother with the chills
I've gotta keep my head low.
Lost journal entry. PS bleeding does not always mean self harm. Interpret.