The slashing
Arms reach beneath
Stashing of chocolate under the bed
Sugar high content
Fed the needy uplifting veins
Sugar hit rush
Push you just enough
To survive another hour
Of loneliness.
Cutting makes it real
But never removes the source of pain
A tattooed millionaire
Joins in and plays the game
Equally well
For everyone private pain
Desperately seeking out the others
To share in communion
But never holy, religion seems last
On the list
And oh god it persists
And permeates many waking days
Pain as a commuter
Pain as the tutor through life
A pathfinder of adolescent pre pubescent
Crescent of 40 years
He wanders and we chase blade
It seems in perpetual motion
The therapist applied a lotion
But I smeared it off
The second I crawled from the leather bed
Red the colour
casualty of war my milk white skin
speckled and flecked
Echo wrecked in my ears the influx guilt religion din
Sinner you sinner
Jesus will cure the sinner
But thinner the frame can hardly stand
And to kneel seems inappropriate
In the town and grand church hall
No thank you
Private pain, better for me
Public scar the rolled shirt shall see
discovered
A layer suddenly removed
Oh no you discovered me
Im sure your criticism
will be vitriolic to the hilt
I’m sure you’ll drudge up the mud
And silt that lies
At the bottom of this failing
Relation within blame
Ship sinks
Arguments over  kitchen taps
As boiling water washes the relapse of another
Slice, blood running
Teeter on the brink of violence
I have not the strength love
as
The stoic stasis persists
emotional explosion seems impotent
I have been evacuated
immunity has grown
Within
Rather like a fungus
Unwelcome
I never invited it there
But like any unwanted guest
The unsaid and the expressed
In body tells
Of imminent departure
Cutting scar forever
I wonder when they will finally leave