The first time

Is a pin prick

To unstitch

Your skin

To feel yourself

Begin

You search your being

You are it:

Coursing through yourself

The second time

You search inside

A stranger

Behind the corner shop

You find where he begins

Adrenaline!

But come back,

Stinking of rot

Void of thought

To feel what?

What are you searching for?

To begin ag...

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Her skin can open up like a mouth

It can speak

When it parts

It can extend like a tongue

It can taste

Your arteries are seams

Try to unpeel them

Slip off your flesh

Undress

Search your pores

For secret trap doors

Let the inside out

Part it like a mouth

Like hers

It can speak

Unfold the red carpets

Of rolled and folded tongue

Let it searc...

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(I've been struggling to show anyone this poem for a long time but I've been inspired to let it free. These feelings are behind me now and it turns out writing was to thank for that afterall)

How does someone stop cutting?
Do they cut into the paper instead?
Replace flesh and blood with diaries and ink,
Replace physicality with mentality,
Replace actions with words,

It isn’t enough.

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