You have to be really careful with a razor
You have to be able to cut just right
Too deep, and your secret pleasure could become an accidental emergency
Too surface level, and what’s the point?
I made a red portrait
It wasn’t created through my smeared blood
My boyfriend begged me and begged me to tell him what I wrote in the portrait
But I was hungry, and tired of explaining my truth
But you know you’re on the right track when you can peel a tissue off the blood without reopening the cut into messiness
How many will you endure tonight?
As many as it takes, bitch
Because you own that shit
🎶 Don’t you ever try to judge me, dude
You don’t know what the fuck I’ve been through 🎶
Your feet are your best weapon
No one will look there
Just as no man will check what you hide under tampons in your bag as you go through security
This information is for your safety, not to abuse
You love someone
Until forever collapses like a mine
Everyone involved is trapped
And recovery is brutal
Then an unexpected twist in your privileged world
Someone you know is dying
Don’t talk about “it”
“It” upsets your Mom when they say “it” out loud
But you get it
We’re all dying
Relatives screaming, “how dare you not appreciate what you have — why must you host a pity party?”
Your reaction will cut ties, I have just learned
I miss G-unit rubbing my neck
He’d touch every muscle and it would be excruciating
But neither of you knew that
Your body screaming in protest while hoping for more
Who’s “The Joker” now?
Why. So. Serious?
If only he’d known
If only you’d known
Maybe the pain could have subsided and accounted for
But being misguided for years?
Being misdiagnosed for years?
Who can endure that?
Not him. Not your Protector. Not the one you BELIEVED this time
For better or worse, until death did you part
You must continue the pain now
It’s not for attention
“Man up,” now
You can take “it”
Society wants you to be sick
Society wants your guilt to fester
Think of all of the jobs you’re keeping alive!
Think of all the people you’re helping by being sick!
Most people don’t believe your illness is real
And most people ask you why you can’t work when you look, sound, and appear, “fine”
I fall asleep now an hour at a time
Always waking up, reaching for something
Know your role
And accept that I know mine.