Flames. Fire. Embers. Ash.
So beautiful. So dangerous.
I'm beyond the point of caring.
I reach out for them.
The lighter, The candle.
Burn my flesh. Feel something.
Clear my mind until the flame is gone.
Turn to look, mind in a haze.
Reach for the knife,
Avoiding the gaze.
The knife, pressed to flesh.
I drag it across, seeing red.
I stare at it, the pain clearing the haze.
I don't know anymore.
Anyone who could care doesn't.
They simply pass it off as unreasonable.
Those here don't give a fuck.
Those who do aren't here.
So I cut away. Thinking clearly.
Until the pain stops.
Burning sensation.
That's what it is.
Lighter always handy.
Knife in pocket.
Come at me bitches.
I'll fuck you all up.