Self-Vampirism

My shameful secret behind closed doors
My low, primal hunger for what you'd abhor.

Picking, pulling my scabs out of place
Twisting, turning to get a taste
As agony engulfs me with the first rip
And the sharp teeth of mine digging into skin
Like the razorblade that made its mark, so I could feel
And the wound I will never allow to heal.
I'm a vampire of my own veins
Feeding off of my own pain
Blood pouring red, red, red
Pouring and pooling, flooding from flesh
I'm a vampire of my own mind
Drinking down sorrow like a fine red wine
I'm a vampire of my own soul
Sucking up desire, leaving me cold.
And I'm in my own personal hell,
Left to feed from myself.