I seek that sickly sweet suffering
Those tragedies that feed my writing
The knots in my stomach the tightness in my chest
Buried so deep but I need them to express
The purest poetry spawned from my essence
Take their forms founded in pain's presence
I need it more than nourishment
Such a sick and brutal self punishment
I leverage the scars on and in my body
To the art in all of her glorious purity