Bloodletting (Revisited)

I am doing what I do best

Living inside my head

alone

in the early hours

listening to music

that breaks my heart

over and

over again

Easy to set Spotify

to repeat play

songs that do

the most damage

 

Feeding the longing

feeding the ache

adding old newspaper

dry wood

to the cast iron stove

where my pain and isolation

smolder

Hurting

always

hurting

Seemingly unable to stop myself

 

I recognize that this is a form

of psychic self-harm

emotional self-mutilation

music becomes

invisible fingernails

picking at my scabs

brutal self-talk

sharpened into knives

slices my self-esteem

self-worth

into tattered ribbons

 

I am an expert at drawing blood

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

whom I love dearly

but is a terrible influence on me

and who always stays too long

At least when I feel this pain

I am feel something

I must be alive

I must be real

and so I bleed. . .

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

 

2 thoughts on “Bloodletting (Revisited)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s