It's Not Worth the Cut [Unless You See Blood]

It's Not Worth the Cut [Unless You See Blood]

it's not worth the cut
unless you see blood
it's not worth the time
if there's no red on the knife
it's not worth the screaming & crying
unless your screaming & crying & bleeding

when you press the knife down
on skin of pale white
and rock it back & forth
until you see red
rising up from pale flesh
then it's worth the cut
because of the dark & sticky blood

i sit in the Wal-Mart bathroom
& cut
i sit in the library bathroom
& cut
i sit in front of music on my computer
& cut to the pain in their metallic voices

4 years i've wasted on scratches & nicks
4 years i've wasted on faded scars
4 years i've wasted on coat hangers & thumb tacks
in 2 weeks i've discovered the joy of a cut
in 2 weeks i've discovered the beauty of blood
in 2 weeks i found my reflection in the knife

hidden among the cigarettes i smoke in pain
hidden among the washcloth that hides the blood
hidden among the pills that i use so wrongly & so right
hidden among the make up that hides my eyes
hidden among scraps of paper covered in lines
hidden in my purse you'll find the knife

my skin is raw & red & scabbed
you can hear the pride in my voice
"it only took 1 cut this time"
i cut new flesh that's smooth & pale & pure
you can hear the disappointment in my voice
"it took 3 FUCKING cuts this time!"

i don't know why i started this time
i don't feel fat & my life was going fine
i had friends & a therapist this time
but then one day there was yelling & fights
and i stabbed my wrists, smokes needed a light
& i tried pills & a knife for the first time
and i still don't know what's so wrong with my life

--------

I wrote that poem before I went to the mental institution in October of '05.