Cutter

Cutter

Fuckin doctor said I hacked myself cosmetically,

unzipped my hide for ornament,

slit me down to  bone for decoration,

as if I ribbed my arms with scars for want of bangles,

bit my lips to bloom for need of rouging,

burst my knuckles off the wall for ruby rings.

Fluff. I’d no need of other’s eyes

other’s eyes were cheap

and cheapening as plastic beads.

For the hell of it I cut,

I cut and I cut and I cut.

I  cut out of a musical disgust,

to ease the dreary two-tone of my pulse,

I cut to feed my changeling packs,

my wolves, my varnished skulls, my rats;

I cut to cool a fever in my organs off ,

I cut to bleed the bilious humours out,

I cut for victims everywhere,

I cut for  sisterhood,

I cut to starve the seeping creature

crouched in the curls of my gut.

Most of all I cut

I cut and I cut and I cut

to unravel the blood rope,

to snip the twining miles of blue

that pinned me to the world

to feel that rush of warm release

that blurred cacophony recede

the body loosening from earth

till the gorgeous day I slashed myself to weightlessness

and floated up a tunnel in the sky

and climbed as I cut

and cut as I climbed

and cut as I climbed

and climbed as I cut.