GYMNOPÉDIE.

Holding the wishful, wistful knife against the throat has never felt so gentle, when the sharp of the neck is the one slicing it back, metal cut. There is a sense of satisfaction in the nook of this very act. Call it violent, but it is the predilection towards turning everything brutal into soft carnage that keeps me alive. If you count with your hands, both hands, just how many times you need to murder yourself in your sleep, again and again and again, there must be that knowledge that fills you to the brim, your oesophagus full.

& you asked, you ask, again, how do you keep your sanity intact after each bloodspill?

Let me tell you, that as you pry your insides open, there are always cruelties within. Men were birthed as monsters, clawing out of the mothers’ wombs. There is no apology to enunciate when you do this to keep yourself alive. Survival is a brand of justification. Love, you were meant to find fulfilment in breathing, drowning.

I want to feel all of me realize what is, what is;

my body, in existence; enough.

- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

“Don Quixote”