the fine line between writing and relapse
Location
i'm tired.
of ritually slicing at veins,
spilling them between the lines.
these gashes are getting clumsy;
any day now i'll spill too much,
and blood is not an appropriate substitute for
ink.
and this is not dickinson
or plath
or sexton.
i'm tired.
of earning my words with
starvation
inanition
chronic melancholia.
if the pen is mightier than the sword
then my pen cannot be a razor.
i'm tired.
of setting the thermostat to 57°
to match the number of gashes in my page
that i can still see.
i'm tired.
of crunching ice between my molars under the covers
when there's a blizzard burning outside.
i'm.
tired.