impulse
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Ink
It leaves a black stain
Where the needle grazed my skin
Marking a moment of impulse and rebellion
When my body wanted to hurt
My mind is a battlefield
It has trouble distinguishing danger from safety
It makes rain on a tin roof sound like gun fire
Makes fireworks on the Fourth of July into an air raid
I’m thinking St. Jude has got a hold on me
My head my hands my head
Shaking so violently
Hand me a bottle, babe
I can’t breathe
I need to breathe
I lift the cool
Tin pitcher, its handle
Biting to my bones.
Thick cream pervades
Its body, concealing numbered
Scars with silk bandages.
I push its frigid
Bottom up and the warm
Life that is without direction,
Without thought.
People that lead without choice,
Without reflection.
Those who experience true feeling,
It is dark here in my mind.
There is nothingness all the time.
My eyes stay shut, I can not see.
I reach out for something, or am I hoping it will reach out for me?
The smell of defeat and death lingers here.
Sorry forBeing impulsive.A nasty blackSplattered to theSound of a brokenMe.
Burnt trust,Rigid to touch.Sweet memoriesWon'tSet you free.
Shelter disdainful epiphanies behind latched heart
For pity to sneakily evaporate
And emotions grow painfully tart
To mediate the dormant desire into blossomed state.
Drag Restless on her knees;
What might be okay today
won't be okay tomorrow.
When your mind allows impulses to take over,
it's like you're giving up,
you gave up your strength.
Strength is usually what helps me through,
An impulse I can't control
It all comes on very slow
Thoughts start to grow and grow
and turn into obsessions
Obsessions I cannot resist
An average teenage boy
Clunks along the street
With his Converse laces
Flipping from side to side
Catching under the worn soles