I have these raw pink bruises all over my hands and knees.
"What the hell are you doing!?" He yells at me.
I look at the razor, then to my wrist, then back at him,
as I reply mindlessly "I like to see myself bleed."
Blood runs down my thigh.
All I ever want is to be high.
High above the barrier of my body.
He says I smell like strawberries.
He likes the way I taste.
And I'm just a soul in a shell of a body,
so I just close my eyes and wait to slip away.

Of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe

*"ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous".

Open up and bleed.
Your secret is locked
in me.
Shut down and drown.
I can hear you from
miles away.
Oh, honey
Don't blush while I
rip you open.
You think love will
save you.
Baby, tell me why
you're still dying.

I feel this everyday, for it is not new.
I feel it when I eat, and I feel it while I sleep.
I feel it in the mornings, and I feel it wide-awake in the middle of the night as if it is a monster lurking in my closet.
I have never been in control.
In fact I can’t keep falling out.
I feel normal, for this has become me.
I will forever be trapped, and out of control, but in the dawn I sit at my window as my cat jumps up onto my lap with her sweet purrs.
Her purrs fill my empty shell of a body, and for that I am full, and start to make my way onto the day.
And I’m not being fair, because I am trapped, and I am trapping others who meet me, and or choose to keep me in their lives, or stay in mine.
I ruin everything.
And this I tell them, “You’ll be trapped like me. I’ll ruin you completely.”
They never seem to listen and soon enough they are just like me.
Trapped and utterly out of control with their lives, and feelings.
Welcome.

In his face I still feel him.
In his grace I still breathe him.
Emptier than god
I always need him.
And in all my ugly,
Take what's left of me,
And feed him.