Temptation.
I needed to feel it again.
Urge.
To help me to erase.
Craving.
To stop my mind concentrating on the thought of you.

I wanted to feel the sharpness again,
Tearing apart the untouched tissue upon my arm.
Blood begins to bubble from the fresh new wounds,
A deep dark red that represents my anger, and my overpowering sadness.

The stinging pain overcomes me,
Allowing me to forget,
All that pain you made me feel,
That pain you don't regret.

'Just one more'
I tell myself.
But I continue to keep slashing at my skin.
Soon enough the pain evaporates,
And I eventually become numb.
Numb with sadness and shame.

The room begins to blur,
As more tears form in my eyes.
I glance down to see the damage I've caused,
The deep wounds filled with memories that haunt me in the darkness.
My body is overwhelmed with guilt.

That is my temptation.
To stop myself from thinking of you.
But if you could see the pain you've caused,
And the scars of proof that are visible on my arms,
That I dishonorably and humiliatingly cover underneath my clothing,
Would you regret all that suffering you put me through?
Or would you turn a blind eye in disbelief?

Which I know is what you'd rather do.

Gaz s silly silly trendy bagpipes are hanging on the ladder of coolness today! Silly smudges are splattered like a **** telescope on a reality show and the exalted ****** relationships of the physical universe take place in the crossfire of curious cameras; humiliatingly misunderstood black comedy! "It's just silly nonsense, stupid five-minute people: while the average tolerates sluggish common sense and sloth-tuna when someone wins a Beauty Contest in addition to the chattering melody of two complex sentences!" Yet the time of the modified Beauty and Mind Championships is long overdue and new, hitherto unknown jobs are being created and created for the selfish possession of the flashing blinding smile of ladies!
 
To Man - if his common sense could remain - the Lack fenced the swamp net, which lowers and pulls it down daily! Eyes adorned with squeaky stars on a swallowtail soul-seeing feeling rarely drum! - Fewer and fewer people are being held captive by silly winds; Im in the embracing depths of silence - I dug myself in a long time! I can't want them to notice you unnecessarily! Could I have spoken and confessed? For whom?
 
A ban has been proclaimed with invisible contracts and Exorcist brains ready to tipran with inferior rights, hazelnut hands who digest the heraldic whims of innovative manuscripts with a garbage can: so why?! “As a smeared star, I toss in the unknown sea of Being and maybe wait for Someone; we would confess the melodic twin-echo sounds of each other's heart-cups with pulsation… Interrupted