I am doing what I do best these days
I am living inside my head
Alone in the early hours
Listening to music that breaks my heart
Over and over again
It is easy to set Spotify
To repeat play the songs that do
The most damage
I am feeding the longing
Feeding the ache
Adding old newspaper and dry wood
To the cast iron stove
Where my pain and isolation smolder
Hurting, always hurting
But seemingly unable to stop myself
I recognize that this is a form
Of psychic self-harm
Of emotional self-mutilation
The music becomes invisible fingernails
That pick at my scabs
My brutal self-talk
Sharpens into knives
That slice my self-esteem, my self-worth
Into tattered ribbons
I am an expert
At drawing blood
From myself
It beads up gently on the surface at first
Before starting to drip
Before starting to pool
Before starting to stream
The secret shame is not that I do this at all
The secret shame is that it is oddly comforting
Familiar, like welcoming an old friend
Who I love dearly
But know is a terrible influence on me
And always stays too long
Because at least when I feel this pain
I am feeling something
And I must be alive
I must be real
And so I bleed
Brave & Reckless 
This is your best Christine.
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Wow Yassy! Thank you.
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You are welcome my dear girl. I tweeted too.
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This is so good. I love listening to your readings. 💙
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Thanks Phoebe! Good to know that someone is listening.
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Excellent!!!
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome!
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Reblogged this on Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and commented:
Pain in words from Christine Ray
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Beautiful and painful, too real. Ray, Bon Iver, Sam… so many other’s to get stuck on.
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I often have the conversation with myself where I ask if I choose music to suit my mood or whether I choose music that influences my mood. There is not always a clear answer.
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Both i think, for me. Sometimes I choose it so I can remember what I lost… I guess, remenisce. Other times it just strikes and will drive my mood… rabbit hole, etc.
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Ah, I am very familiar with rabbit holes!
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“The secret shame is that it is oddly comforting”
Exactly!
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Yup.
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So Beautiful. I used to judge myself for enjoying emotional pain and then one day I realized that feelings like pain, sorrow, and anger are like great spices for flavoring life. Cinnamon makes things taste wonderful but you can’t eat a whole spoonful of it and you can’t live on it either. But you can enjoy it deeply as a spice 🙂 Thank you for reminding me of this with your beautiful words ❤
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Thank you for reading and responding Caitlinjaene. The cinnamon analogy is cool.
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So very brave. I find trouble writing about self harm even as it has been 2 years since last time. You’re not alone out there. *Big hug*
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Not an easy piece to write but keeping this all in isn’t easy either. Here is to treating ourselves with love and compassion and loving both our dark and our light.
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Oh wow! the fingernail part is so horrific and visual. Fabulous poem, tragic and love the image you chose to complement it 🙂
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Thank you Daisy in the Willows! I love the image too.
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