Did you know wrists are extremely soft? Sweet too. I don't know how many times I've tasted them-- different ones, of course, but all are soft and sweet. Perhaps that's why people love to slash them-- something that soft and sweet shouldn't stay that way, should it? Anything sweet dies-- so we kill these sweet, soft wrists too.
Why does it sting when my tongue runs across it? That short, exquisite flash of pain-- what is it? No matter how gentle I am with myself, there's still that sudden burst of ecstatic agony-- a call, a command. For what? Ah, I see now... it's the vein begging to be slit, isn't it? I wonder if the other vein will scream too.
I shiver when my teeth run across that single point of excruciating sensation. My body wants the blood to flow, shrieking for those same teeth to tear into the soft, sweet flesh to watch the crimson bloom and stream away. One taste wouldn't be too bad, would it?
But there's so much to live for now, isn't there?
Whispering a soft, sorrowful song, I fill myself with that quiet ache again, one last time, tasting the soft, sweet flesh one more time. My body wails at the loss as my hand drops to my side again, whimpering for what it wants. One taste is too much, isn't it?
There's still the minor throbbing feel, even though my wrist is no longer caressed. That fine bolt of pain still lingers-- I don't understand. No matter that I've chosen to walk away from this ritual, there's still the need for more-- the plea, the prayer. My veins must learn to be silent.
Did you know all that's soft and sweet can still be protected? I don't know what part of my mind asks me to watch those soft, sweet ones so carefully-- to not let anything happen to them. Perhaps that's why everything continues on-- even when I want to walk away, the softness, the sweetness seduces me to protect the life within again.
There's so much to live for now...
... isn't there?
