Evil.
There is evil in my heart.
Ugly illness making craters, dark pits of despair
in my fevered, heaving chest.
Cracking but with no treasure to give.
Oh heady hateful tonic, I will rid myself of you.
I have no leeches to pull the poison, but I know another way.
Tiny vessels wait. Knowing.
Just as eager to be purged.
Pulsing, reckless beneath delicate skin.
My veins: blue and green bruises, filled with malevolence.
Latent corruption belied by the luscious liquid where it hides.
Gospel lies in a single act -
to sin against my skin, to cut the dastard veins.
This metal gleams by coloured light
and the anxious remedy begins.
One line.
Another.
Silver furrows deep in my flesh
and I watch as if a stranger.
Fingers grip cool metal, caressing it over my skin five, six, seven times.
If there is pain, the transience is absolute.
Sanguine drops collect across the
careless scores I draw.
Wet, glittering beads delight to smell of life,
but also of decay.
The evil laughs on my skin.
These cruel and blushing drops,
they slip, giggling between raised hairs and precious freckles.
Warm in my veins,
but cooled by stale air I have breathed over and over.
I let crimson roads find their way down my arms -
grinning, chilly trickle on my skin.
Bright, smiling tears fall out of me,
dripping off my sinned skin
onto stark cloth where I watch the culmination of my crime -
my arcane bloodletting ritual.
I collapse, nearly content.
Nearly happy.
Nearly dead.
e.y.
