Cheers to your Blades

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
I've noticed the more dark and eerie you get, the more likely people are to read your shit.. kinda concerning, but let's test this theory.

Submitted: September 29, 2014

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Submitted: September 29, 2014

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Sometimes I drink to feel,

my addiction it's quite similar to yours you see.

First I choose my weapon

something sharp but not potent,

maybe vodka, or a paperclip.

Sometimes I need something of a shock

like whisky, or a blade.

Once I've chosen my weapon, I need a space

somewhere discreet, but not to safe

as theres always the hope lingering behind me,

that someone will find me.

Now it is time, it's quite like a ritual you see

a deep breath, close your eyes

and take the first sip, then cut.

The first is always worse,

it stings as the warm fluids make their way down my throat,

it burns as the metal drags across my skin.

Then there is the rush,

I feel the warmth spread through out my body,

I feel the tingle as the blood begins to surface.

Now comes the crave,

as my mouth waters the anticipation of the next sip,

but i'ts not a sip, it's a gulp, I drown myself in the next swallow.

I no longer slowly drag the metal acorss my skin,

but swift slices, like I'm scrating at an itch that lies underneath.

The alcohol moving so effortlessly down my throught,

the blade so gracfully crossing my wrist,

the high so intoxicating as it fuels my desire.

The bottle is empty, my hand is shaking

my eyes close, I drift in and out of consiousness,

this is the moment I longed for,

this is the state of mind I live for.

All to quickly it ends,

I become unnervingly aware of the discomfort in my head

on my wrist, in my throat.

I take a deep breath, I close my eyes,

I begin a different ritual,

closing the bottle, cleaning my wounds.

Sulking in the guilt and self pitty of my actions,

longing for the next sip, the next cut, the next high.


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