“blood gathers around the slits,
wells at my wrists,
ancles, and stomach,
and glide down my barely satisfied skin.
dripping down.
down to a dark pool.
made by me.
and the help of others
dripping
past any care,
and right to where hope should be.”Â
Â
“You strive for the top
because you crave the danger
but can you handle
the ever persuing fall?
every mountain has it’s precipice
which leads to a steep
fatal
fall
the sof wind of fake comforting words
accompany your decent
as the ensuind crash
puts you on the edge of death
and drives you mad”