write me a river

Riley - 26 - Just throw some thoughts at the world

[freeverseriley]

The sensation of peeling skin is one of comfort and horror.

Its like wrapping yourself in a blanket after a stressful day.

It's calming. Relaxing.

But it's also skin being torn from your scalp, your chest, your back, your neck, your face.

Little bloody flakes of "why did I do this" and "what's wrong with me".

But the soothing action draws you back in. Again. And again.

Digging holes into your scalp, your chest, your back, your neck, your face

with nails you never knew were this sharp.

[freeverseriley]

Skin tingling. Scratch. Pick.

Claw marks a bright burgundy against fair skin.

It's happening again.

It's a violent urge. An uncontrollable compulsion.

It's bleeding skin and it's I want to stop but it's I can't and I won't.

My hands are the enemy but it's hard to win a battle against something attached to your own body.

Taped fingers do nothing but irritate.

A temporary fix for a permanent problem.

Nowhere is safe. Every piece of skin is equal opportunity.

Distractions don't exist in this world.

Nothing can stop these hands and it hurts to try.

A compulsion ignored is like pins and needles across your whole body. It's sitting still

shaking

unable to think of anything else.

And so I--pick. Scratch. Run sharp claws across soft skin.

[drunk-on-writing]

sweetheart, you are a writer you paint picture with colors that haven’t even been named yet in only black ink you make dreams come true with the quiet ‘click’ of a keyboard you do things that others wish they could do so don’t be so hard on yourself; your gift is unique to you you don’t have to write like them you write like you and that is enough

for anyone who may need this reminder ♡ (cc, 2018)

[freeverseriley]

Today I am consumed.

The monster is ready to feast--Everything

is coming to a head and I'm running from it.

This road always looks new; my brain doesn't know how to navigate it and it's catching up to me, it always does.

I can not run forever. He will not let me.

Like I said,

I am consumed.

The monster will always have me in it's grip. I may escape but do not be tricked as I have been, it is not real.

The monster is purposeful.

It likes to let me go so that it can play games. It's favorite game plays with freedom.

Or freedom plays with me.

But that is not the game we are playing this time.

Today is about being consumed. It's running until you're cornered or your legs give out

or both.

I try to hide but the thoughts and feelings inside me are loud. The monster can hear them. The monster can always hear them.

It's like they call for him sometimes--tired of this fake game of escape.

It's like he's almost comforting. Like he's better than this treacherous road to freedom.

I am familiar with him. And he is familiar with me and that is why he finds me.

I'd like to say that it hurts when he consumes me but it doesn't.

It's gentle, loving

almost.

It's familiar; something known.

I forget he's even there sometimes. But next time he let's me out I will run again. Because no matter how gentle, no matter how loving,

he scares me.

And he has always scared me.

You would have to meet him to understand but his eyes are sunken and his teeth are sharp.

He could kill me and I know he wants to.

He tries sometimes

but that's when I escape again. Because I don't want to die.

He's comforting and I'll always be found or I'll always come back but I don't want to die.

And so I'll let him consume me but I can't let him kill me.