I think you want
To be hurt by me
As most often do

they take my blood for their machines
to analyse
the very heart of me
laid bare to scrutiny

a diagnosis
of an ill I never realised
I needed a prescription for
just to survive
so nice of them
to save my life
but I feel fine

the lies we tell ourselves are
   part of our consciousness
globules of satan's blood drip
   into our souls

I love the color Red.
Mostly, when it spreads across my mouth
When I bite myself hard enough.
I wince to draw blood for comfort,
Keeping my mind from racing too much.

I can’t get enough of it I confess.
The splash of crimson red
Compliments the tone of my skin.
Makes my face seem less
Pale I suppose.

As painful as it is,
It slows the raging beats of my heart.
Makes the pressure dissipate for a second.

Serenity is in the metallic taste
That I crave like morphine
To a drug addict

I let it all run
Thickly and quickly
I want them to see the messy horror of it all.
But it’s not all blood,
Rather it is the medium for my art:
Pictures of roses, cardinals, apples
The rouge on a woman’s lips
An  umbrella on a rainy day
A wool sweater
A pocket square against a black suit
The traffic light on the corner of the street...
Or perhaps I'll dip my quill in it and write
Because that's what writers do.

They turn all that red into something beautiful...

“Post a time when you were at your lowest but no one noticed”
But the thing is when I was at my lowest, I never hid it, at least not in the long run
I let the blood from my struggles pour from my eyes,
It runs down my arms in vein-like trails and seeps into the creases of my palms
It runs down my fingers, filling the whorls and arches of my prints
Every touch contaminates and floods
I spread it on the surfaces, smearing and painting with red: startling like a cardinal in snow and thicker than wine
At times I regret being so open, thinking I should just keep things to myself
But that would be to go against my nature
To go against my deep desire for those I love to know every single intimate part of me;
To see me at my weakest.
Maybe it’s because there aren’t any secrets then
It’s just me showing the world that when im strong, im strong,
And when I’m weak, I’m weak.
I suppose I don’t feel the need to hide how I'm feeling or what I am going through.
To hide it would be far too much work
And I don’t have the energy to hide.

We look at the sky
peering up beyond
beyond the last birds seeking home
and the last rays of sun sinking behind the clouds
but generally we see nothing
it takes complete darkness
to really see what lies
in the ******* beyond
but even then we forget
the millions of miles separating
us and the stars
twinkling almost sadly in the distance

We are made of stardust
yes, that is true
basic elements connect us all
in hues of an artist's color wheel
but why do we acknowledge
something so far
when we are really more like what is right beneath our feet

Dirt
overlooked but completely necessary
allowing us to exist in our natural form
something we touch
and through that touch
we feel the energy of the world

Flow

flowing like the blood through our veins
flowing like the river down a mountainside
flowing like the song out a bird
like the ocean 'round a great whale
like the air into our lungs
like the tears from our eyes

just like the feelings from our hearts

And there she was
A rough scab on a smooth perfect knee
With a chalky cigarette between bony fingers
Chipped red painted nails
Matching crimson accenting glossy white walls
She knew she was dreaming
Because of the ****** sun in the middle of the room
Chapped lips crack with scarlet, staining teeth
Surgical gloves reaching out from her beating heart
Held in by pale marked skin
Needles pricking gums, calling upon beads of ruby
Incisors and canines fall out one by one
Heavy tongue tastes gory wine
Indifference and apathy sistering one another
Stitches hold right-handed fingers in permanent crosses
Though an opal ring falls through
The shattering crystal lights the room ablaze
Intangible flames lick the ceiling as it rises and the floor sinks
An ever-expanding room flashing over and over in endless continuity
Like a repeating reel of film catching on fire
And then she was gone