It's an impulse you can't control,
An action you wanna take back
But let's face facts
You can't delay it
The pain waits patiently,
Tapping away at your consciousness
Regardless of the consequence
And I'll be honest with this
It's almost impossible to stop

Almost

The key word I hang onto with every breath
This is not just a test of strength
But of reality,
Making short work of your sanity
You try to stop it
But it won't have any

I see the kids with mocking laughter
Not knowing that my body awaits disaster
Trying not to cause drama
To kick up a fuss
To set off the bus
Drive it down main street and yell
"Hey look mum no hands".

There's a reason rumour rhymes with tumour
Malignant and fast
If not careful you'll breathe your last
One misplaced cut and your veins start spewing
On the gums with nervousness inside your mouth you start chewing
And deep inside your anger is brewing

Boiling
Broiling
Coiling around your throat
Just to choke you out

That's what my impulse is like
That's what my impulse is about
And sometimes it's hard to resist
When my subconscious persists
That little voice in my head telling me
"You ain't ****!"
"Just another mother-******* chopping board
Slicing
And dicing
The Sunday specials you had stored"

I'm better than this
Experience defines who you are
And I'd rather not be a peeling bandaid,
A walking, talking, bleeding scar
That won't heal!

That stays, never gives up for the wrong reasons!
Searches and lives a life without meaning!

I'd rather just be myself
Not the trash can everyone dumps their **** into
Even when it's full

I want to be safe
Can you say the same?

A dark and stormy day
Stone-walled house and creaky floorboards
Rain tapping all the windows, streaking them,
As the windows shudder in their housings

A high, keening wind
Clap of thunder and a drawer being opened
The cutlery inside rattling
As the drawer comes to rest

A roving and admiring eye
So wet, reflecting the dull silver sheen
Sizing up the pain within
And the size of the blade to release it

A lightning bolt outside the window
Causes him to look up, through the pelting rain
At his own reflection, to the dark hair
And those sad, sad eyes

He tilts his head a little, wondering
Just how good a scar would look
To beautify what is the exact opposite
And decides, for the time being, against it

The front door bangs open,
Footsteps in the hall
Resisting that encompassing impulse,
He drops the blade, the butcher knife, back in
The drawer

"You need any help, Mother?"

I sit here watching
red lips sipping wine
cheeks  flushed vibrant.

Avoiding lingering eyes
I tried to be
invisible.

I feel out of place
my jeans tight
while these women cling to
cheap dresses.

Running my hands through
my thick dark hair
his eyes catch mine.

I wonder if my
jet black lashes can avoid
anymore tears.

Perhaps his lips
will brush mine
and his weight will
press upon me.

I'll swallow shallow impulse
taking intimacy just to
reek of regret in the morning.

I am a tight knot of chaos and impulse
I am erratic, spinning in a wild off kilter dance
I am poison to the beautiful things I love
I turn them sour with my touch

Lace on her dress displays just so
Smile with eyes that pierce
Lips that pout
Curves that pulse fiercely
Dreams of boys rarely become real.

Here was one such being
In the moment of wanting
Delicate limbs with an amorous calling

He nervously approached her anxious
Then suddenly turns as words dissipate

This being of wonder recoils at his stance
Looking him foot to face
The eyes of two and souls meet
At this moment he can only feel heart beat

As her tongue curls to back of lip
She evokes to him greeting as only she could
Suddenly cooled, his body deflates
As she speaks with vile and venom

As so the boy learns
As many before
Facades seldom curtain ones beastly interior