I asked my friend once
Why he cuts himself
His reply was completely sensible to me
Though others might say it was senseless
But so heart wrenching was the reply
So real that it made me cry

He said
I cut myself to make sure I'm alive
Because pain is the only emotion
That throughout my life
Has been able to thrive
But every time I cut, I think
If I can feel pain,
Maybe another emotion has survived

You see
There's this thread that is tied around my heart.
But it's not just tied around my heart
It's tied from my brain to my heart
To my soul to everything around me
To everything within me to all that surrounds me.

There are many things attached to this string
The closer they are to the end
Wrapped around my heart
The bigger the knot they form
And the bigger the knot is
The easier I can feel them

There is one emotion
I feel every single time my heart beats
That emotion is pain
Through past, present, future
Throughout my entire life
That emotion has never ceased

Pain is so close to my heart
On the thread of emotion
That maybe if I feel the pain
I'll be able to feel the emotion
That is one step further than pain
And then the emotion beyond that

I cut myself because if I can feel pain
I might be able to feel hope next
And I might feel happiness after that
And maybe, just maybe
Someday, because of the pain,
I'll be able to feel love

I asked my friend once
Why he cuts himself
His reply was simple
He said
Because sometimes,
Cutting is all that keeps us alive

we all strive for perfection,
and to not have any flaws;
though I find that flaws
are perfection
in it's truest form.

I can feel
a hurricane
building
and
building
inside of my mind

I dreamt last night
of a place far away,
of a place where
flowers grew from our hearts
and the skies glowed
with understanding

my mind
starts
filling
and filling
with thoughts
and eventually
i'm underwater

it's almost like
rocks

rocks that keep
piling

piling inside of
me

This place is not a home
this is a place
full of
hate and regret

I have been in an almost sleep all day,
Perpetual semi-twilight.
Each time I surfaced,
I popped another pill (on an empty, aching stomach)
And returned to not quite dreams,
It was almost fun.

The moment when the little pill kicks in
Is all the relief you've ever felt.
Pain, the master of your world, recedes,
And febrile fantasies erupt,
Spilling from your head, to your bed.

There was...This...Most fantastic poem,
But I couldn't break the surface
For long enough to capture it.
It eludes me now, while lucid,
But the pain is creeping back...
So, time for some little white saviours,
Perhaps I will rediscover my lost masterpiece,
Buried in the desert of disease.