In the blood

Written for the Beauty of Cutting Comp
 
“No high will be as good as your first, but you can die trying”
 
 
I’m not really sure why I did it  
desperation mixed with curiosity maybe  
the last resort of someone that needed to scream  
yet only found silence in her throat, sickly sweet
with powerlessness.  
 
Everything I ever did came down to curiosity
I used to think it was better to know, no matter how stupid
or dangerous.  
 
Self-harm – I’d been doing that for years
with candles and wax, though wax burns never left  
the kind of mark the serrated edge of a knife
does as it tears through skin.  
 
For a moment among the dizzy high of pain  
everything was alright, I was in control  
all my worries gathered at that one line of exit
my eyes lighting up at the tiny beads of blood  
spilling up and over my skin.  
 
And habit is a powerful thing for an addict  
anything that has the power to suspend reality  
for long enough to make you forget  
is a good thing… or so I once believed  
as I chased hospital admissions
psychiatric wards, bandages  
and long sleeve shirts in summer.  
 
Not forgetting to leave out the terror  
of bleeding myself out and into shock  
while knowing it wasn’t enough to make me stop.  
 
© Indie Adams 2012