Consumed

want to feel the sharpness, The stinging against my skin, And watch as the blood pours from my flesh, How long has been since I traveled this path, Since I sat down while walking and nurtured my unseen wounds - With the pain of a thousand shiny blades The thought of it is almost sweet, Bitter -sweet and so appealing In my minds eye I see the redness, The network off welts that each day will tell a different story, A story of pain and failure, Off misfortune And always… Always the loathing… How I loathe, This body, This skin, This tiresome form off mine, I cannot look at myself anymore, Vileness, And disappointment, And no love, Never love How can love exist in a place off loathing? It cannot… Instead it destroys, It hurts itself, Takes itself apart And watches from a distance and laughs, Bleeds through the turmoil, Cries through the permanence of what it has destroyed… The strength, Of a thousand blades, In my hands, And its power to release this pounding deep inside my soul- It reverberates through my entire being, It deafens me, And brings me to my knees This is a war, Iv waged against myself, Against my body, My heart My mind My soul has put up its defenses It crouches behind walls, Seeking a shelter it knows it will never find… Its armor is flimsy and weak, As it prepares for the onslaught… How do you defend? Protect, And plead, Against yourself…