I am not a cutter, never have been.
But I love blood. Mine. Poison.
When I used to inject my drugs a thousand lifetimes ago I sucked deeply in the small pinprick of the needle.
When things feel wrong, I drink, or I pierce. I have been drinking too much.
It has been a long time since I went subcatuneuous, but I still have the needles, one by one, and in them, the ritual. There is nothing simple here, nothing like the ritual. I need to get my needles – blood better than booze.
. My blood is poison. Some of you know, most of you don’t. My life is precarious, precious, short.
I should have been long dead, but I’m not. It is something that I am not willing to give up for no reason. I have my friends, and through a hundred reasons I am only me and you are my purest beauty.
I don’t know anymore. There are some things that cannot be denied, I am only the me who so few of you know – but I reveal myself in these words, all I have.
Don’t fuck with me.
We do what we can to survive.