"The Addiction"

A thought,
or word.

The look someone gives me,
a glance if that.

And it begins.
That thing sticks,
and I can't think.

I twist,
and itch,
a scratch,
at the back of my brain.

Makes me think,
of ways to hurt.

And if I don't listen,
then I hurt inside,
and it burns my heart.

By the time I take the blade,
I'm shaking and sweating,
wanting to vomit,
heart beating,
hyperventilating.

Rolling up my sleeves,
clamy hands,
twitching skin.

At the moment of the cut,
the wound,
I am overwhelmed in emotion,
over and over until I feel nothing.

I feel better,
blood running down.

A smile forms,
tension gone,
let's watch.

Blood,
blood,
bleeding,
done,
I'm okay now.

Until the next time,
sincere goodbye,
old friend.

This is my fucking addiction,
I can't stop,
but maybe it's time to try.