the fewest words mean the most
words spoken over and over mean less and less
eroding at the base
yet the less words i speak
the more i erode
the more i bleed
the more i sink my teeth into my own jugular
the metallic twinge i try as i may to ignore
is sickening
sickening that i produced it
decorated with my own marking
the worlds first eyeless sadist
pulling away is not an option
barbed and bared
too deep and too caught in the tissue
cant release myself even if i wanted to
for the time in such a long time
i find myself wanting to bite down harder
wanting to chomp as hard as i can
rip through flesh
pour another ounce of blood
whats one more pint
to a gallon of despair
id make good worm food
YOU ARE READING
I'll Be Fine (pt. 2 of 2)
Poetrypoetry showing my stress. relieving, coping, really. continuing to add poems, sometimes daily. use this as place to talk about your own frustrations and dances with pain and strife
