I feel the numb of the wound
As you pull out the twisted knife
And comfort in the warmth of the blood
You're the warmth
Before the death of hypothermia
The shiver of a fall morning
And the heat of the autumn noon
The chill before the boiling water burns your hand
I lean into the cold until it burns
Then find comfort in the chilling sting
The razor that slices my skin
And the painful sensation that comes afterwards
Yet the satisfaction of the pouring blood
Yet Hot pain
But icy hot pleasure
