The Dark ominous corridor beckons at me
In my mind, deep within delicious Agony
Reminding me of moments of my Idiocy
A weakness to Purge by hurting me.

Pierce my Eyes so I can't see
Carve it from its own sockets free
I'll cry myself in ****** tears of glee
For these lenses sinned by looking at thee

Shut my Mouth so I can't  speak
Or taste kisses that make me weak
Sew it up with threads so thick
For these lips have sinned kissing a *****

Cut my whole Body and throw it in a bag
From my head to my torso and my every leg
With my pounded bones and flesh turned to rag
For my whole body sinned, your touch I still beg

And lastly for the finale of my Purification
Take my Heart away as a final decision
Rip it all out with reckless abandon
For it sinned, loving you with devotion

For hurting Myself is my final solution
My penance and truth from this horrid Illusion
An act I will make with my own volition
To ******* own love for thee with Self Mutilation.

one month clean
i’ve made it here before
then i didn’t think, and i fell,
back down to the floor,
maybe this time
i’ll make it to two
or three, or even four
i guess,
that’s what i’m hoping for

She found herself slowly becoming immune to her emotions. With her lungs incapable of letting the air out, and the pain buried within her unable to turn into tears, she bled in silence

Her lips were
       razorblade kisses,
bleeding the lust from
every motion that leant me
                                       forward.
For the inevitable
           torture of our wounded love.

We were bound by the chains that
gripped within our small collection
of touching moments.
                    You would sculpture
my endless intrusion, forge me into
someone I wasn't before I feel below you.

Now I pray for you to free me,
          the ******* of our coupling.
Constricted to the many time you
cut the voice of our reasoning from me.

*"Love is a hell of our own creations,
         "And your's cuts me deep enough
                     to love you more with each laceration,

Traveling thunder
And rolling lies
Thoughts down under
And scarred thighs
Slashed feelings
and thoughts of suicide
Oh when god, when will I die?
I’m feeling stuck, ****, I’m stuck
So why god, why, why am I alone?
Scarred thighs
Scarred lies
Scarred wrists
And feelings dismissed
I’ll open the bottle and count
One,
Two,
All the way to thirteen
Thirteen and I’m done.
Thirteen and I’m free.
Thirteen.

i didn’t think it through
i didn’t think that the cuts would be so noticeable
that i would feel ashamed
that i would have to hide them
that i wouldn’t be able to roll up my sleeves
that i would start holding my arms in different places
that whenever i was wearing a short sleeved shirt i would think about my scars
i didn’t think it would take so much effort to stay clean
that there would be no temptation

in the moment
i felt empty
numb
it was late
i should’ve gone to bed
but i didn’t
i had been thinking about it for a while
it was always tickling the back of my mind
not letting me forget
reminding me
the moment of feeling something
of feeling relief for a second
and i did it
i looked at the scissors
and gilded them across my wrist
then there was shame
and regret
and anger
that i went almost two months and threw it all away
i didn’t sleep that night
i tossed and turned
then pretended everything was fine