I'm itching to tear this body down.
I'm being deafened by this sobriety,
Trying to silence this urge to
Scratch off all this skin
And smear my insides all over these stupid
White walls.
I've gone too long without the razor
To give up now--
But, oh!
The desire to watch my own blood
Drip and
Slip and
Slide down my skin,
Watching it dance around
The freckles and past scars
On my arm.
Isn't it amazing how
Fragile
My first line of defense for my body is? How
Thin
it is? How under several tiny layers
My insides are held in place,
But with one
Slice
They can come tumbling out
So everyone can see the filth
I hide inside?
These silent screams that no one else can hear--
That others deny even exist in my mind--
Are rattling around in my skull,
Calling me,
Coercing me,
Nearly forcing me to--
.
One small cut.
One
Small
Carefully
Controlled
Cut
By my own
Shaking hand.
And finally,
There is silence once again.