What I want

I make it no secret that I will eventually die either by a situation I have put myself in or by my own hand. I do not want anyone to misunderstand this fact. It is not that I dislike life (I do but that is besides the point) its that I dislike living it.

It is not fair that people who want to live die and people who want to die live. Another one of god’s strange ironies I guess like the platypus or opossum. I don’t expect anyone to read the crazed rantings of what rattles around in that empty head of mine. Maybe someone will discover this and realize that it is ok. Its ok to feel like this and not hate yourself for it. Heck if you feel like this you already have enough reason to hate yourself you don’t need any more.

People may ask why I haven’t done it yet. I have often pondered that question when I slide a razor slowly across my skin wishing it were a lovers caress. Watching the red blood tickle its way down my arm trying to tantalize me into making the deeper, feeling more blood sliding down with a soft plink on the tile floor. I listen carefully enraptured by the feeling and the sound of blood slowly draining from my body. The blood caresses my flesh making me shiver and my eyes roll back just for a moment. God it would feel wonderful and decadent. But there are not that many people left in my world and the darkness is closing in.

I wish I could lose myself in the feeling. Let it be the only thing I feel, close off all my other senses to the blade, the blood, and the feel of it. I can feel your warm body beside me, behind me pushing me back against your bare chest. My head lulls against your shoulder surrendering myself to the sensation of the cold metal and your warmth. I can feel each cut, each time the blade slips inside my skin, the ultimate penetration. Not enough to kill be enough to feel it when we fuck later. The sex after is always desperate and frantic (at least for me) I am not sure if I am proving that I am alive or wanting you to plunge the knife deeper so that you can revel in the feel of my life, my blood pour out onto your flesh. Please

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About Killingdanse

I am the girl that was pretty but too smart. I am the girl that you sat and discussed horror movies, sci-fi novels, and molecular genetics with but were scared of because sometimes you saw the darkness peak out from inside me.
This entry was posted in Broken, Deranged, Sex or stunning lack thereof., Valentine's Day, want and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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