I AM ABOUT TO DO A POEM ABOUT THE VERY HEAVY SUBJECT OF SELF HARM, I KNOW FROM FIRST HAND THAT LISTENING TO DISCUSSIONS ABOUT IT CAN PUT CERTAIN PEOPLE’S MINDS IN A SHITTY PLACE. NO SHAME IF YOU CAN’T WATCH, ONLY LOVE. CW: SELF HARM. P.S. I AM CURRENTLY SEEING A THERAPIST, ON MEDS, THE WHOLE SHEBANG. JUST NEEDED TO GET SOME FEELINGS OUT AS WE ALL DO FROM TIME TO TIME. There’s a python under my skin, I swear it.
Twisting death-rolls underneath the surface, paying homage to a night I don’t remember the same way, making dry libations between my forked veins, because wine-dark resentment can’t break skin. When midnight rolled in, a different person
hurt me, I’m sorry. You and I, need a little chat,
because this can’t keep happening. I have to keep going for the sakes
of bullshit like blue skies and family or else we’ll be constantly reminded
of things to live for instead of being let be. I have to keep going. I keep waking up with jacob’s ladders up my inseam, shining splits like grill lines up my inner
thighs light enough to pretend to be stretch marks,
it makes me hard to believe when I say getting fatter would be a silver lining,
that bursting like a life-giving rain cloud would be a fantastic consolation prize
for not dying. We have to work together on this;
no more choking on progress, no more loving myself to prove I can do it,
no more all or nothing when I feel it all, or nothing.
we need to remember we are undefeated, and there’s no evidence for how hard I’m
coping. and that if they see my bruises they are birth certificates,
and those the scratches are signatures, because if muscle moves beneath them, I’m
living again. I THINK IT’S IMPORTANT TO TALK ABOUT SELF HARM, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE NARRATIVE FOR THE INDIVIDUAL ISN’T THE TYPICAL BEHAVIOUR WE EXPECT, THAT AND HOW RECOVERY ISN’T SIMPLE OR EASY. I HOPE IT DOESN’T COME ACROSS AS PITHY WHEN I SAY THIS: IF YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT ANYTHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I WILL DO MY BEST TO HELP. THANKS.