to the self harmer holding the blade, wanting nothing more but for it to kiss flesh, know that you've been days clean and you don't deserve another scar.

to the self harmer digging your nails into your thigh after a fight with your parents, know that this storm will pass.

to the self harmer shaking as you bury countless blades in the dirt, know that you've never been as strong as you are now.

to the self harmer hiding deep under your skin, know that your scars are nothing more than a reminder that you're still alive.

to the self harmer rocking the realest smile you have had in weeks, you made it.

I remember when I would help with dinner at my grandparents house.
My grandpa would always have me cut up vegetables.
He always told me I was holding the knife the wrong way, he didn't want me to hurt myself.
He would hold my hand and help me cut the vegetables so I would learn.
Well now that I'm older I dont need help.
Now that I'm older I avoid dinner.
I know how to hold knives.
The difference is that now I don't care how I hold it.
I am so careless.
Cause when I put it to my paper skin and watch the Ink fall out I just keep thinking about how my grandpa would remind me to hold it right so I don't cut myself and he would put his big hand over mine and show me how to do it the right way so I don't hurt myself.
But grandpa  now that I'm older that's all I use knives for.

I still find myself wanting you.

Why is it that I feel so good inside when absolutely nothing is inside of me?

Are you anorexic?

No,
I'm not anorexic
I've just got a
Stomach bug

I've never heard of
A stomach bug like that...

Yeah,
It's really weird
They just discovered it
See,
It actually spreads
Through your mind

Well, what are the symptoms?

It's simple,
You feel fat
And lazy
And stupid
All the time

And it makes you sick,
And then you don't eat

Sounds anorexic to me...

*I'm not anorexic!

there's a lot of holes in my life
for example

my waist takes as little space as possible;
a curve is formed in each side
in order to be fitted by
somebody's hands

and i would like them to be your hands

between every bone of my spine
there's a little pause pretending to shape
a path long enough to be toured by
somebody's fingers

and i would like them to be your fingers

when i stretch my neck i find
angles in my collarbones
a piece of architecture to be traced by
somebody's mouth

and i would like it to be your mouth

but your hands hold the curves of other waist
and your fingers wander other road
and your mouth traces the lines of other architecture

and i have all of these holes

and there's a hole in my bed
and i would like to have two