SELF-HARM
My flesh lays exposed.
The metal spike lightly tracing up and down my arm,
sending a chill of excitement throughout my mind.
Without a second glance, the flesh is torn.
The Blood flows free, eagerly exploring its new surrounds.
But the spikes job is not yet over.
With a little more effort its journey begins again.
Forcing its way slowly through what muscle is there.
a gaping hole begins to appear.
A physical locality for what I have held within.
Only now can we see, and only now can we experience
the sheltered pain and anxiety that has overwhelmed me.

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The morbid and sadistic thoughts of a troubled mind.
The eager sensation of the blade slicing through.
Constant questions that compound my desires.
The inappropriate pangs of guilt run in harmony
with my ultimate portrayal of an unwanted soul.
Life's constant search for an ounce of truth.
To lay claim to some tangible foundations on which to grow.
To live or die, we often ask why?
Though the answers are many - do they really care?
And again I dream on, waiting and craving for the blade to
cut through.
To feel my warm blood as it seeps to the floor.
Marvelling and wondering about how to make more.
Watching the crimson liquid colour my decor.
Knowing all to well that this could be the end.
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Blood
Laceration
Entertaining
Endangering
Dying
Influential
Numbing
Gorgeous
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Pleasure
Attained -
Internal
Needs
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Sensational
Addictive
Deviant
Interesting
Spontaneous
Technique / torture
Intense
Craving

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The cold embrace of tempered steel…
An easy escape or an entertaining release?
The absorbing sensation of ones life essence
seeping through our feign token of rescue.
The excitement and fear or our terrible deed.
The hidden laughter being released in an anguished cry that slams against the establishment.
In ones effort to transfuse to another state of existence.
Ridiculing those whose lives are shaped and moulded inside a cocoon.
Branching out to encompass all, so that they too can feel the cold embrace of tempered steel.

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Mind numbing experiences.
The sudden jolt travelling up my arm.
The agony, the frustration, the thrill for the day.
Longing, loving, hating the whole thing.
The feeling of isolation and of being alone.
A disorienting revelation and my life force slips away.
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Pleasure and pain, aren't they really the same thing?
A mass of sensory recognition going to the brain.
Allowing us to determine the foundation of this
ecstatic rush.
Wanting more, or may be less, in an effort to
expand or control the sensation.
For pleasure and pain, it's everybody's game.
The need for a release, or an instant gain.
To me it's all the same.
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The agonising pain of metal sawing through skin, muscle and bone.
Terror compounded as the speed of penetration is kept to a minimum.
Blood flowing free as easily as my tears.
Compelling my senses, my psyche, to beg for more.
It is not a definitive moment to end ones existence.
Why is it so much fun, sitting and contemplating the joys of self-harm?
I want to escape.
I need to escape.
It is through my imagination, my unhealthy desire that quells my blood letting.
For now my skin is whole, waiting patiently - expectantly for the glimmer of steel, tthee ultimate temptation to ease me through this life.
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Happiness, glee, anticipation building.
Gasping and grasping, the pleasure - unbearable.
Watching, smiling never confiding.
Dazzled and craving as the slash along my arm begins to spill!
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The uncontrolled, unconscious desire to inflict pain to ones body.
An act of self-harm, self-mutilation, maximises your zones of pleasure and fulfilment.
Where the inflicted pain brings to life the nerve endings of a subjective mind.
Never fleeing, the process has only just begun.
Where shall we start and where shall we stop?
Endless questions start to compound my mind.
Creating a void of despair, that has consumed me from within.