Wandering mind, idle hands:
they're called the devil's playground
for a reason. I slam myself into
the over analysis of nightmares
of mid-day slumbers.

Forcing sleep upon my waking body
to numb the pain of another useless
day in another useless body stuck in
this useless state of mind. That's all
it ever is, though. Place and thought.

But I'm comfortable set in misery
and pushing away the closest things
and people to love and home that I have. Cutting strings and burning bridges were always my favorite past time.

That type of self detriment always comes easier than dragging some sort of blade to idle flesh. Starving your body from life is much easier than
purging dinner from my swollen stomach. Full and "happy" because I live in America.

I tell you this: there are other ways of
hurting oneself that don't involve physical infliction. I find that of the mental and emotional type much more satisfying.