Today, a years-long claim got denied — again.
I have been fighting the veterans affairs office
for too much of my life.
Sitting here at a job that brings me nothing, I silently weep
inside about the battle that I have to continue fighting.
At my work bench, surrounded by strangers to my struggles
I’m transported back to my first encounter
with the hellish reality of life in the Marines.
His cries for help rip me out of my bunk.
With his arms locked, under the boys armpits and across his chest,
he drags him out from the squad bay bathroom.
We’ve been in basic training only two weeks now.
Fresh out of high school,
our friends haven’t even left for college yet.
Blood sprays from his neck.
He’s laid on the ground, and my hands, like bandages,
are around him now trying to keep his life inside of him.
I never knew how hot freshly spilled blood was.
I close my eyes, and pray someone will come save him
and me.
I was only 18
and so was he.

                                        Hands, covered in life
                              It’s lost warmth — searing my skin
                                        Save me from this hell

(TW: Self-Harm and Suicidal Ideation)

I wish the night was more than a fleeting mirage
Coming one moment and leaving the next
I wish the darkness would surround me in its velvety cloth
Not the absence of light, but the absence of life
The darkness of total and permanent nothingness
I wish my capillaries, veins, and arteries would peal open
Slowly, agonisingly
I want to watch the final drop of crimson drain from my body
Creep slowly down my finger
Trancing the path already traced by his brothers
He will linger at the very tip of my nail
Before falling
Plummeting
Careening
Into the tiled floor
Only then will I shut my eyes
I will let darkness trail his supple fingers down my body
Encasing me in his eager embrace
He will wind himself around me until there is nothing left
But for a small white corpse upon a brilliantly painted floor
And no one will find me
Because no one will be left to care

He picks at the scabs he put on himself
The scabs that were caused by something shiny and small
I got it from art class. Isn't that crazy? I got something from art class to put permanent art on myself…. My own skin.
He makes empty promises and lies to his loved ones
“I'm clean!!”
“I promise it won't happen again”
“Its been 3 months since I cut!”
Lies. their all lies, empty promises
He watches the blood appear as the blade goes across his wrist
The wrist he once drew on with markers
the wrist that is now covered in scars..
now something you cant unfix

seeping through brown-riddled veins
flowing a gently fervent stream from
my wrist, a perfect red
dreams of an escape from all of this
turmoil and stress can be attained
through a single temptation from
the acquired gaze of a small blade

It isn’t fair anymore
You get the fun of wanting to be alive
You get the pleasure of living
You’re not trapped
Why do you get that right?
Why wasn’t I allowed that too?
Did I do something wrong?
I was just a baby
I want to do something to make it up
Something to show I deserve it just like you
It just isn’t fair anymore
You get that joy of not being stuck
I can’t see
It’s too dark
Explain to me how that’s fair
Why does everyone get that but me
The food passes by
But what’s the point
Why do I need to prove myself?
Show how much I need this
I don’t want anything
It’s a right
Not a privilege
Can I stay with you?
There’s enough room for me too
I’m tired
When I sleep it’s okay
But I can’t sleep all the time

I pull up grass and feel guilty about it
I know it’s not bad.
So why can’t I stop?
The blade just keeps looking up at me
“Why did you do it again?”
“It hurts”

There’s scars on the yard from the last times
It’s fine.
I’ll water it when I feel better
So why can’t I stop?
The silver just keeps looking at me
“Why’d you do it again?”
“It hurt”

I pull up the grass and feel guilty about cuts
The lawn will grow back
I cover up my arms and legs
The ground is barren and mowed to dirt
So why can’t I stop?
The blade stares
“Again?”
“…”

getting harder daily not to break down, cry.
this feels like such a waste of a life.
waiting for the day that i finally cross the line,
and yet it never comes. you stay. you choose me, us, every time.