I don't talk about my self harm much
Because I can't do it without revealing
The depth of my desire
It's like,  how someone would talk about their favorite food,  or ***.
The scars on my body
Are a momento to the capacity
To turn pain into pleasure
An escape into which
I can dive
Flesh first.
They speak of sins of the flesh.
I would compare my urge
To gluttony,  or lust.
The thing about addiction tho
Is that it's a lot like walking a tightrope
Everything in balance
But theres no net.
I'm a self taught gymnast
Twisting myself to prove,
How far I can push myself
A mastery over my own body
And the,  click, click, click
That only knows one way to be silenced
I don't know how else to love my body
But to define it by what I can take from it
And I have a habit
Of being, oh so, very greedy
When I let someone love me
I find myself hoping
That they have enough hunger to consume me
 So that maybe
I wont,  devour myself.