Rip

I don't care anymore

         for appearances.



I want to pick my fingers

I want to scratch my acne

I want to bite my nails

                   Until

                             they

                                       bleed.



I want to see the red

         flowing

into the sink



I want to feel my pulse

         throbbing

against my flesh



I want to hear the water

         whirling

down the drain



washing away

         my sin



I want to take the hangnail

and pull

         pull

                   pull it back

bringing up more skin

layers upon layers

letting the blood pool to the surface

and drip onto the porcelain



I want to squeeze my fingers

so the blood hurries

         rushes out of my body

and fills the sink

         and floods the room

                   and drowns me



I want to put on band-aids

         sticky side on

                   tender flesh

just to rip them

                             off

again

         again

                   again



I want to pick at old scars

because they          bleed the best

as the wounds are deeper

after years of tenacity



I want to make new scars

because they          hurt the most

as the wounds are fresh

after clippers dig in



The worst pain yet though

is being told          "No."

         someone denying me this

                   my one last wish



And so I don't

Because that hurts so much           more

Just as I like it