My suicidal cure

Set the stage

Torrent of blood pours forth,

Splashing the white enamel bath.

The faucet spews forth,

More and more!

Endless...

Run my hands through the flow,

Feel the warmth upon my skin,

Relish the feel,

As it teases me...

*

Awake from my reverie,

See the water once more clear,

Sigh a sigh of surrender.

Reminisce once more,

Of long cold steel,

Teasing with delight,

Tracing loving lines on supple flesh.

Yielding easily...

Blood slowly welling,

Seeping out, Iron smell wafting up,

Drawing me done,

Just one taste...

*

Drift back, turn off the tap,

Water hot, just...bearable.

Smile at me in the mirror...

Strip off the clothes,

Do not rush,

Savour the moment,

No need to rush.

Place legs in first,

Slowly lower rest into water.

Feel the water, fully immersed,

Raise wrist, inspect the lines.

Each scarred line,

A precious sign,

Lovingly sliced upon the skin.

With my right,

I cut the left.

None to gentle,

Cut it deep!

Six lines,

Trace their routes,

Weeping blood on clear.

Reverse the knife,

Cut again,

Same response once more.

Feel the power,

Flowing free,

Relish,

Savour, enjoy,

As blood flows forth.

Sink wrists within the tub,

Watch as it does blend.

Intricate, beautiful art,

Upon a flowing canvas,

My breath it takes away.

*

I sit and watch,

My master piece.

Watch as she slowly dies,

Her life washed out of her.

She never felt the joy I felt...

Cutting her.

Raise my own wrists,

Look at their scars.

Been years since I cut me last,

I am cured of my obsession.

I found a new outlet,

It lays before me,

Sweet, innocent, silent,

Dead within a bath.

She might have wanted to live,

But I needed her to die.

I am cured...

I cannot cut myself no more!