skin-picker ✴︎

a short poem because writers block is killing me

Peel it back til it begins to bleed
Taste the sting of it like lightning
On your tongue, just to feel something 
Just to shock the senses for a second

Pry it open til bruises form 
From the ache of blunt nails on wrists 
And when the bruises go away
So will the pain, you hope to God 
It will go away

This is it, the thrill of it
To watch your hands become claws
Digging into forbidden fruit 
And drinking the blood inside 

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