Up and down,
Written in my
Own personal language,

Crossing my skin
In a sharp,
Bitter, language- personal

To me and
My skin, an
Ode to life

PULLING the edges
Until THE blood comes through
The darkened SKIN
Never new TO you
Turn them into permanent FIXtures
Turn THEM into scars
Line your body with a constellation
of crooked moons and stars
RIPPING until it hurts
BECAUSE the PAIN IS the best part
Let THE PROOF run down your face
Prove you have a heart
DIG a little deeper NOW
til your nails turn red
Careful now SWEETHEART,
Any more and YOU'RE DEAD.

i’m gonna do it again. almost one month and 20 days clean!

tw: self harm


My mind isn’t right
I can’t think
What... what did I do...
There’s blood on my wrist
From slice after slice

I was getting too used to it...
Had to change direction
Change location
Bleed somewhere else
To ensure it would hurt
Because it’s something.
I needed to feel something.

Now I’m drowsy
My gauze-wrapped wrist stings
And I finally feel
I’ve got what I deserved

My heart is shattered.
Everything inside of me is violently churning and I, I am not ok.
I want to die, but I've had to many bouts of suicide that I'm afraid of the fear and how cold and lonely it is when you try.
I wish I succeeded, but it didn't.
And now I wish someone would just shoot me or wreck me in my car, but it's hard to ask someone to **** you.
Funny when you don't want to die, the worst happens.
But when you do, no one will put you out of your misery.
I start college again in 2 weeks, I dropped out last fall.
Now I have a packed suitcase and I plan to get a visa and leave the country,
I don't want to come back.
This life here is too painful,
And every sense is magnified. Sound, smell, touch, sight.
The smell of whiskey when I bite an apple.
The sound of highway sirens like when they came for me.
The sting of blood when I prepare dinner with a knife.
The sight of tall buildings where I once sat but couldn’t find the courage to jump down.
Maybe I should leave everything behind and get out of here.
If I want to die so badly, maybe I should live a little first.
Though I don't think someone will **** me no matter where I go.
Because they know life is too precious,
I just wish I felt the same.

There’s not much left
My wounds are healing
Scars fading
And all I can think about
Is adding a few more
To my collection

There’s so much destruction in me
I’d like to make progress
I’d like to try and get clean
Just so it’ll feel worse
When I fall back into my habit