I don’t cut because I want to die.
I mean,
I want to die,
I just don’t cut with that intent in mind.
I cut because I need to.
I cut because I like it.
I cut because it feels good.
Because I can depend on it.
And because I have to
To keep my sanity.
I don’t cut because I want to die.
I cut because I cannot live.
I have a secret
And yet I wear it on my sleeve.
Cold and comforting
And it is all mine.
No one gets to know.
They would only be so lucky.
I smile a little.
And I close my eyes and keep them shut for a bit.
And a deep peaceful breath
Just for good measure.
I’m finally happy.
Finally happy, but I know
The feeling is starting to
Fade even as I write this down.
Because eventually the pain goes away.
The physicality of it all just stops hurting
And I’m left with a dull constant pain within.
Oh so very unsatisfying.
And the painful ordinary task of
Pretending that nothing is wrong, when
My outsides have healed.
For now, I savor this moment.
For now, I finally am able to truly breathe.
For now, I feel a little bit closer to home,
A little bit closer to death.
Screaming, screaming, screaming.
I’m screaming so loud
but the sound just won’t come out.
Frozen.
Drunk.
And my mouth isn’t working.
This is not a joke,
and not something made up to
hide drunken mistakes.
This is real.
At least
until You try and convince me otherwise.
I spent a year and a half
denying.
Deny, denying denial.
But it hit me.
One day it just hit.
And hasn’t stopped from haunting
haunting
haunting
every part of my brain.
Every part of my body.
Heart.
Soul.
Mind.
Infestation in my dreams.
And I cannot escape it.
I cannot escape You.
I don’t know how and couldn’t even
begin to try.
Your head is always replaced
with current lovers
current boyfriends
current friends.
Your head is replaced by the people I love.
Or no.
The people I could love.
Maybe.
Your head is replaced
and it’s like I’m there again.
Screaming, screaming, screaming.
But I’m really actually screaming
and it doesn’t cease.
It’s still You
but it’s also them.
And there’s no signs of stopping.
And then I wake up.
Oh so often in their arms.
And I hate them a little.
And I try to hate You a lot.
And I’m screaming.
Screaming.
Screaming.
And I just can’t wake up.
I can’t wake up from
real life.
And You’re following, following, following.
Following me around.
Crawling into my dreams.
And killing my heart.
All the while
You’re screaming
screaming
screaming
“Wake up
and just get on with it.”
It was a little boy
sitting all alone in the corner
of my room.
White blonde bowl cut
and icy glass blue eyes.
That starred vacant.
But intense.
At something I couldn’t see
but was surely there.
He was the picture of
demonic innocence
and childlike horror.
My mind jumped,
picturing the instance he turned on me by killing me slowly.
Slowly so he could hear my cries and delight in them.
An evil only a child could possess. Making me scream in terror and then apologize for getting blood on his shoes.
And the thing is.
I’m in love with him.
I can be his savior.
I can be his and he can be mine.
Another mind jump.
To him devouring my flesh.
Taking bite after bite out of my side.
Eating my skin, muscles, and connecting tissue.
And then leaving the bones.
And the tears are streaming down my face.
This is love.
This is my soulmate.
I used to think that being with you was the closest I’ve ever come to being in love.
But that’s not true at all.
And now, I know I’m not in love. I’m so very much in lust. But still maybe closer in love than when I was with you.
Today is six months.
Half a year since I was
almost not here currently.
I tried to kill myself.
And I’d like to say that
from then on, everything changed.
And I guess it did in some ways
but didn’t in all too many.
I’m still the same person.
More fucked up, in fact.
And there’s just no escaping it.
There’s no way to escape my mind,
to just take a rest from it all.
Countless questions remain unanswered
and unthought of.
Did I really want to die?
Do I still want to die?
What the hell is wrong with me?
What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?
Why am I still here?
Why didn’t I take more pills?
Why am I still feeling this way?
I got a “second chance” at living technically.
I should be eating this shit up.
But I still feel so empty
and there’s still too many holes
that need to be filled.
I am bleeding on the inside
and crying on the outside.
And I just don’t know what to do with myself.
I want to jump.
I want to fly.
I want to sleep.
I want to die.
I can hear the children groaning
And they’re calling to me.
They tempt me,
taunt me
with their sticky sweet fingers
and jagged teeth.
They’re climbing out of the trees
to woo me towards their pack.
Sticky, nicotine filled whispers
haunt my ears.
And now they’re crawling
in my head.
And devouring my eyeballs
from the inside towards the out
and replace them with
mud filled glass spheres.
“Carry me towards the trees.
Release me from my body.
And push me off the edge.”
And that’s it.
A happy corpse picnic
for the children
to lap up.
Hazy memories
and recollections
of a day seemed night
because there were no visions
only feelings and sounds.
It was awful
and I couldn’t breathe
and then could far too much
and far too fast.
My body wouldn’t work right
and my mind had dissolved
far before
wherever I was in that moment.
They stuck needles in me.
Needles and fluids
needles and fluids.
And then took off my clothes
and stuck me again.
In a cage with a snoring lady.
That day I was manic.
Manic and confused.
Manic, confused and all alone.
Telephone hours and food schedules,
to take just over the amount of pill dosage
you should be taking.
But it’s okay, your dealer has a
medical degree.
So that means something, right?
In a place that made you
feel so stupid and so weak,
to go out to the real world
to slowly build up strength
and increase your humility
and face humiliation.
Only to realize how fucked up the system really is.
And how nothing is changing,
nothing is improving,
it all just stays the same.
Destroying souls,
masked by the idea of helping people.
It’s a prison.
With nurses and doctors and phDs.
And all of the god complexes.
And we just want to get out.
They feed us lies and bullshit
and we hand it back to them gladly.
Make a scene or question them for an
extended stay.
It was horrid being there.
And possibly more awful remembering.
Forget the fragile state…I’m stronger now.
Am I?
Am I really?
Altered confidence and self doubt
flood my body. Now more than ever.
As if I didn’t have enough already.
The dealers
take advantage of the weak and vulnerable.
Feed you lies and
feed you pills.
Break you down
and send you off on your own.
It’s your fault and things
will never be the same.
They’ll never be the same.
And they’re bound to
get worse.
I tried for so long to
push it from my brain.
To get out. To move on.
But I cannot escape myself.
And as much as I fill
my mind with superficial
surface-y thoughts,
I am always here.
It’s time to face the black.
Or be lost forever.
Or just
gone.
This week I had a dream about the guy who raped me.
Last night my ex tried to kiss me.
And tomorrow is the six month anniversary of when I tried to kill myself.
Fuck.
I want to make a circle of fire around myself.
Just pour the gasoline and light it up
with me curled up into a ball
in the middle.
Eventually the flames will creep up on me.
Surrounding me until there is just nothing left.
