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Aug 2012
i understand now why some people do it—
shred their wrists so something can escape,
can breathe, can force its way out of your skin—
drip drip drip like the sink faucet that doesn’t
quite work, because at least drip drip drip isn’t
choking on the nothing you can’t say or gasping
for things you wish you could feel and it only
leaves you clawing for heartbreak with bloodied hands
and ripped fingernails like
ohgod,ohgod,air,breathe,keepbreathing,ohgod
and drip drip drip and screams that echo in your
mind like a mantra instead of tearing from your
throat and if a tree falls but nobody is around to hear it
does it still make a sound?
does it? does it?
drip drip drip like steady clockwork, but maybe not
the sane kind, just the kind that’s losing something--like
your mind or possibly blood, and you know it isn’t healthy,
it’s a sickness, a disease, a different kind of drug addiction
and the syringe needle is leaking drip drip drip until its
too late and you just drift drift drift away and your
heart explodes without oxygen but at least you feel it,
and even when you’re too far away to hear it, you know
you’re drip drip dripping.
Rachael P Presley
Written by
Rachael P Presley
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