I thought after all these years of being bitten and scratching sores, I'd eventually grow a thick enough skin to keep out the mosquitos. I was wrong. Even so, mosquitos are nothing compared to the itch I've got for you. You see, mosquito bites are only skin deep, but I've got this ravenous hunger for you, gnawing at my bones.
the weapons i use against myself are ones that can’t be hidden or taken away it’s me my hands that i’ve turned against myself the only things that make me think of pain are long, sharp fingernails
even now i can’t scratch an itch without my fingers digging into my skin for the last two years the only touches my stomach and sides have felt are soft strokes deciding a path then sharp, sudden stings so even after stopping for months touches to my sides and stomach make me flinch
I hear the scratching in my walls all night It sounds to sinister it gives me a fright It could be mice or maybe legions Of some really ******* ****** demons I hope it's just my ****** up imagination Not again, my own damnation Guess I'll just lay here and wait for the screaming I've past insane, there's no redeeming
picking and scratching my skin bleeding the scars all over remind me of certain times in my life when the stress got too much to handle and I sat in the bathroom for hours destroying the body that was given to me burning down my humble abode just picking and scratching away at my sanity which I'm not sure I ever really had the scars that I get comments on daily 'Did you try to hurt yourself?' 'Are you alright?' 'Are you being abused or unsupervised?' no answer really just staring at them; whilst picking at my scabs in that blissful agony that I love to feel
i talk about the scars that i bare on the inside all of the time thought i'd talk about the physically noticeable ones please feel free to let me know if you too struggle with this :)