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Illya Oz May 2018
How can you even start to express to someone that you want to watch yourself bleed...

That you want to rip open your own skin and feel the warmth trickel down you body.
Watching it seap out of you and slide across your skin.

How do you explain that this is a craving stronger then you could ever describe and ever so hard to resist.
That this red liquid is able to quench your metaphorical thirst for emotional relief.

How can you explain that that it helps...
That in some twisted way the pain makes everything hurt less.

How do you explain to them that it scares the living hell out of you,
That this is something you can do to yourself,
That this is something you want to do to youself.
The knowing that even after so many years you still crave it,
And you don't think you will ever stop craving it.

How can you explain to them that you don't want them to think you're crazy.
That it just hurts too much for you to bare.
That you are trying to bare it but the pain you feel inside is too much.

That the fact that you can't see this pain scares you,
that others can't see your pain scares you,
That you don't even understand this pain scares you.
And maybe this is why you crave watching yourself bleed.

It's a pain you can see,
A pain that others can see,
A pain you can understand,
But now that you see the pain you understand that you don't want others to see it.
Because how could you even beguin to explain.


How could I ever beguin to expain to you that I want to watch myself bleed...
I heard a line in a slam poem recently about someone with an eating disorder which really resonated with me. "I consider myself recoverd but still talk about my eating disorder in present tense."
I am 2 years 'recoverd' from self-harm, yet many days I still battle with the 'addiction'. Everyday is a question of 'Will today be the day I relaps', 'Will I be strong enought to fight it today.' Yet I don't talk about it. Most people just don't understand and I don't know how to explain it. I don't want their sympathy, the way they look at you like if they say something your going to shatter like glass. I don't think I will ever truly recover from my self-harm, it will stay with my for as long as my scars do, a lifetime.
Like a detective with an audio recording in hand,
Listening for an imperceptible sound-an echo, a jangle
An early morning east wind weaving through the branches
That missing clue with which to break his mysterious case
wide open. I find myself with you in my ear on rerun,
Pressing play, pause, rewind on impulse. Like an astronaut
on a mission to Mercury, your words trailing your voice,
Left ear to right, swimming around within, keeping my core
warm and fluffy like freshly baked doughnuts.

So,
Here I am

SNAP SNAP SNAP
SNAPPING my musical fingers
to the PERFECT song, as your words
in 00:03 seconds,
collide with my beguin'ing heart
Like drumsticks on a set.

©Belema.S.Ekine
(belemascribbles)
Stacey May 2020
Can you hear the whispers
Of the trees that stand so tall,
Listern very carefully
You hear each tree top call.
Their branches wave a rhythm
The leaves beguin to blow
 Graceful & elegant their age will never show.
standing within the remote forest
we hardly ever go.

Can you hear the humming each palm crown calls in sway
Their compound of evergreen  frond  breezely  they spray.
Listern to their sound
I'm happy here they say
Soft whistles through the palm leaves
This breezy sunny haze.
Standing here in eyes view from the soft  sinkingly sandy bay.

It's trunk so structured, woody, rough at the hand to touch
Its aesthetic leaves outpour over me but never shade too much.
The trunk stoops slightly left at the top as if to reach out to the shore
Coconuts sometimes hang mid balance
& other times drop to the floor.

Kick back relax on my vacation
take a pew
Stare at the essence of the horizon
Captivate the beauty surroundings there's clearly quite a few.
Hear the expanse waves come closer then ever before
motions of surfing purity from a white water bubble tidal bore.
This is harmony this is bliss at its finest
Euphoria  this is.

— The End —