i, still….

still here, still fucked.
still hacking away at myself.
still hiding in sleep.
still watching sad movies & reading sad books because it’s easier to cry about someone else.
still craving the blood.
still loving the sensation of it trickling down my arm, dripping off my fingers. still in awe of the pool it creates on the floor.
still nothing to equal the wet, slippy, warmth of it.
still no release like watching the red spring from my pale skin, following it’s bright path on my flesh, tracing it’s way to my finger tips.
still need that sharp heat as the scalpel slices my skin, the pain as i scrub the blood from my body.
still feel the fear everytime i cut a little deeper & the satisfatcion that follows.
i still live in a world marked with my blood.
bloody puddles in the carpets, red resovoir in the sink.
still blood on every door handle, every light switch.
my crimson hand print still visible on the bathrrom wall.
still indulging in the ritual,stockpiling the blades, washing the blood soaked towels.
still searching for something sharper.pushing for something deeper.
still, desperate for more blood.

still here, still fucked.

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One Response to “i, still….”

  1. sanabituranima Says:

    Still alive.

    Which, despite how you feel right now, is a GOOD thing.

    There is life after depression. And it is good.

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