All Alone with a Knife by Christopher
Sometimes my anger leads to silence
Becomes hard to endure and grows violent
Envisions blood lust and head rushes
Contemplates extreme measures with honed edges
Anticipates escape with grisly consequences
Sometimes my brutality simmers into shame
That eats away with destructive, devastating flame
Aversion evaporates converting to inanition
Leaves me in the useless shell of an abomination
Lets gashes become the instrument of my capitulation
Sometimes my regret falls short of death
Mourns each time I suck in another breath
Premeditates another episode of brief torment
Casually touches my sores without my consent
Awakens something deep inside that should be left dormant
Sometimes my lust is what keeps me alive
Takes back my cadaver and makes it revive
Turns ethical practice into a morbid obsession
Views flesh as just another temporary possession
Makes vows of love into an empty confession
Sometimes I find myself all alone with a knife