covering up an open cut
with a bandaid is like
throwing a sheet over a
finished painting;
you're hiding all the beauty
behind another piece of
nothingness.
you think paintings are
beautiful, don't you?
well, i think blood is the
real beauty. it's warm
and such a pretty bright
red. i have never seen
such a beautiful color.
and the way it drips
down the side of my wrist,
winding its way through
the almost-microscopic
creases of my skin.
do you know what it's
like? to slice a razor
through your flesh
for pure joy? to
see the blood and
know that you're
alive? to be reassured-
you're just like everyone
else. you bleed the same.

i bleed the same.