On Blood

I tug at the dry skin on my lips with my teeth

especially when I am very very nervous

or worried, which means I do this a lot.

I do it until there is blood, sometimes,

and the skin is left skiny-smooth, raw and split,

and the taste of copper dances on my tongue.

I cut my ankle the other day, shaving my legs.

The bathtub floor swirled with red

and I watched my life running down the drain.

“That happens,” I sighed,

and tried to stop the bleeding with tiny pieces of tissue.

It seems i’m very very good at wasting blood

For three days now

whenever I blow my nose, there is blood.

This happens to me sometimes, and it is no surprise,

weather changing quickly as it has been,

but i still feel as though

i am bleeding to death inside myself.

And as i realize my blood must be searching for something more

must be craving more life than my body can offer

must be setting out on a journey

to find itself

i feel the dull familiar pain deep inside

that says i must be bleeding soon.

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