Suicide Daydream (4 AM)

Running scissor's blades across my wrists,

So that they are striped a million shades of red-white-pink,

Occasionally yielding a ruby, needle-thin stream of blood,

It flows and rolls in beads of black-red, like crimson tear-tracks,

The void between two bleeding veins grows deeper with every knife-stroke.


Disconnected daydreams, offbeat, coinciding with semi-lucid nightmares,

Sometimes there's guilt that feels like electric shocks, bullet-wounds,

But mostly just the same blank whiteness, a world of medicated mist,

Crimson rain seeeping through in the darkest hours.


Everyone mentally implores that I willl eventually cut deep enough,

Goddamn them all to the coldest chamber of a hell I don't believe in,

They inflict their irksome advice upon me, I shut it all out, I don't really care,

Don't tell me that I shouldn't give up on myself and everyone else that I knew,

You were always the one to pray to a false god for my death.


If I survive, if I save me from myself,

Let it be known that it was just to spite YOU




The End

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