my old bandage
soft, frayed edges,
threadbare, worn thin
by restless hands, restless nights,

maroon patches
like cowhide on cotton,
each stain a quiet record
of battles no one saw

years of ache
woven into its threads,
dried blood stiff
like a childhood teddy
clutched too hard,

and still –
i rinse it gently,
silent and thinking,
afraid the water
will wash away
what held me together

breathing closed
heart tight, trembling
tears turned the world to glass,
edges sharp, light bent,
everything slipping

tearing through the dark,
sharp screams cutting through,
hands clawing for the blade,
no pause, no thought,
just ache, just hunger

a flash —
the cuts came swift,
red blooming beneath skin,
in smooth, soft lines,
then the fall,
the flow and the drip

fingers wet with sorrow,
tongue tasting iron prayers,
smearing grief
across closed lips,
quiet, feral

wrap the arm,
but still it seeps,
slow,
steady,
seeping, seeping,
until the breaking,
until the flood,

and i disappear beneath it.

external bleeding

i wish i was dead
lying cold in my bed
silent, empty, alone
haunted by thoughts unknown

i need the pills, the herbs
to quiet the endless words
numb my body
lost in the ache that never curves

i long to sink down
where darkness wraps me 'round
i want to feel broken
my voice left unspoken

i want to be better
but i never let her
stuck in this skin
clawing for strength within
numb, i see—
no drive to be free

im livid, writhing with rage
my head is jumbled and aching
no pills, no sleep—i am devoured

because i give and give and give
and they take and rip and shred

rip the flesh, rip the bone
take the arteries
from my heart
steal my blood, flee away

im drowning, im burning
my head is slipping, fracturing
hands clawing at my throat

water like fire takes my air
i can’t breathe, i can’t rest
and my lungs burn
before they’re taken too

my limbs contort, twist, then crack
i try to carve my way out
but im buried deep
tendrils coiled, unbreaking

raging, writhing, war in my head
i feel the lumps press against my skull
i crave to dig them out
my hands grip my hair
nails sinking in

but i fail
sinking deeper, heavy limbs
lungs rupture, body thrashes
the current pulls, the dark consumes
in the end
im wailing in water

i wish i was pretty,
like the tip of a fang,
like a drop of blood,
like a beautifully adorned room,
like the smell of an old book,
like the patter of rain

i like pretty things—
like the eye of a storm,
like lightning followed by thunder,
like the moon as it wanes,
as if darkness were eating it

the night likes pretty things too,
a blue coal sky, littered with stars.
they eat away at pretty things,
covering them in a devouring shadow,
making you lost in its eye

i am the night, the shadow,
i drink and feast on pretty things,
so i eat you too.

my blue veins pulse, life
throbbing, aching, red spilling
i crave, the cutting