Tag Archives: metal

metal & skin (xxxv.)

after a while

the pain loses

its thrill

soon enough

i’m covered in

cuts i can’t

even feel

after a while

the scars lose

their thrill

soon enough

i wouldn’t

care if i get

killed.

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metal & skin (xxxiii.)

it’s a banal addiction

it’s a hurting poison

it’s nothing but a self-indulged fight

it’s mindless, wrong

and they say be strong

but why does it feel so fucking right?

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meta; & skin (xxxii.)

i used to keep count

of the crimson lines

a bleeding notch for

each one of my sins

but now i lost track

of the number, both

arms exsanguinated,

and i ran out of skin.

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metal & skin (xxxi.)

i’m thinking

about these

things again

just when i

thought that i

stopped giving in.

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metal & skin (xxx.)

i’m sorry

that i did it

but i’m not

sorry for you

and i don’t

fucking regret

the lies i spit

maybe it’s

all my fault

for wanting to

see something

heal and fix

itself in my life

you don’t need

to understand

and i don’t need

to explain myself

i don’t want help

because this is it

so fucking take

that away from

me too, won’t you?

maybe this time

i’ll resort to using

a sharper knife.

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metal & skin (xxviii.)

A rusted blade

Complications

Truth unmade

Foolish notion

Healing scars

Condescension

Judged sparse

Say it’s wrong.

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metal & skin (xxvi.)

i’m not

relapsing

i just need

to vent

there’s too

much to be

gone, and

nothing spent.

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metal & skin (xxv.)

funny, i think i’m bleeding out…

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metal & skin (xxiv.)

one cut

a weaker beginning, but you’re just starting

three cuts

that’s the charm, as searing pain is settling

five cuts

is that all you can take? is that all you can take?

seven cuts

how much, how much more can you make?

ten cuts

easy, over, and out, it’s like riding a bike now

fifteen cuts

it’s all a distant, tranquilising blur somehow

twenty cuts

you have reached your own personal record

twenty-two cuts

and went past it; dare you break the accord?

twenty-six cuts

it’s a complete mess of blood and medicine

thirty cuts

too numb to give a fuck, you ceased caring

thirty-three cuts

your arm’s as pale as your cotton blanket

thirty-eight cuts

maybe you’ve crossed the line, but screw it

forty cuts

so indulged, and you just can’t fucking stop

forty-four cuts

because you know it will never be enough

forty-nine cuts

for it’s not really the quantity that matters

fifty cuts

but just how fucking far you dare to go deeper.

fifty-one cuts and counting…

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metal & skin (xxiii.)

at this

point

it’s just

a childish

game

with a

silly prize,

and i

know how

to win.

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