Living In the Times

Cuts

I feel it ooze out and look down to see the blood trickling down my arms. I press the blade against my skin ready to make another cut. My skin fights back as if trying to resist being pierced and sliced, but it eventually loses. I do another, feeling a bit demented. It feels so good to just watch the deep cherry color drip... drip... drip, sounding like a rain piter-pattering on the roof during an evening spring storm, my blood falls into the ground. I love the stinging and tingling sensation it brings me to wash it out. I like reopening them when I'm at work. I enjoy how I feel about this. I snap back into reality and see the mess I've created and I think I've already made a mess might as well keep going. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears and I feel the adrenaline pulsing throughout my body and especially my arms. And the puncturing and pulling motion repeats over and over again till I'm sadistically satisfied with the damage I've inflicted. I put my finger in each and every cut I've made and dig around until I'm satisfied with the burning feeling. I could finish it right now. No more ever again, it could all end so easily. But as I think that I know I'll chicken out. That'll be it for now and tomorrow I'll target anotherI'm unexpected area of flesh. As I clean my wounds and watch them scab over I decide I'm not done and reopen each cut with my fingernail opening them all one at a time. I scratch and pull the scab off in bits and pieces for every slice of scab and feel how progressively my arm gets warmer and warmer. Once again I feel the blood trickle down and think about how easy it would be to just end it right now. Nobody is here to save me or stop me so why not.