When it comes,
I feel the need
for needles
stabbing through my skin,
piercing bone,
a healing pain
fighting darkness,
the false light
flees
as if it never was
or ever has been.
Black is nature,
weighed by blood,
burned by cutting
no scent of smoke
sweet delicious pain.
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
When it comes,
I feel the need
for needles
stabbing through my skin,
piercing bone,
a healing pain
fighting darkness,
the false light
flees
as if it never was
or ever has been.
Black is nature,
weighed by blood,
burned by cutting
no scent of smoke
sweet delicious pain.
I wrote this back in 2010. I was going through an extremely heavy addiction.
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