It always seems
That I end up
In this same exact
Place

With my eyes
Nearly swollen shut
From the salt water
That seeps from them
Rarely,
But when it does,
It comes like a
Rain storm
Or maybe even a
Tsunami

With a shiny piece
Of metal
In between my index finger
And thumb
Waiting to see
The beautiful red
Liquid that
Drains
From my pale
Wrist

With my body shaking
In fear
That the slices
Will not
Be enough
Damage

Because if you're
Ever looking for me
On any night
At 9:11 p.m.

I'll be right here
In this same exact
Place.

-e.w.