Weirdo.

The blood running down my wrist,

Puts the red sea to shame,

Wine of death,

Hushes me into fake comfort,

Running down the plug hole,

Hide it, hide it, hide it,

Check,

Double check,

Triple check,

If I check again I’m an idiot,

Check again,

Flush the blood tissues down the toilet,

Dry my arm on a dark towel after showers,

Fucking panic attacks in the shower,

Someone might find out,

Waiting for more scars,

It hurts,

Itmotherfuckingburnsandihateit,

One time I blacked out and woke up blood covered,

It was as deep as I’d ever cut,

Maybe I hoped I was dying,

Who am I kidding,

There’s no maybe about it,

I don’t take baths anymore,

Because I used to keep my head under,

Until my lungs clawed their way out of my chest,

Screaming for air I didn’t want,

I kept my head under a little longer,

Now I’m more ocean than girl,

Pulling the seaweed from my hair,

Braiding a noose to finish the job,

I am more salt than water,

Crystallised,

Crushed,

Lifeless,

I think what I’m trying to say is,

My arms hurt and I’m tired,

like sometimes when i’m crossing the street i don’t look both ways or i’ll just silently beg a car to hit me.

i take more risks than someone who wasn’t suicidal at all but not enough for anyone to notice.

sometimes i’ll drink a little too much in the hopes of something happening.