Untitled-trigger Maybe

With the knife in my hands, I tremble, fully aware of what I shouldn't do. 

My trembling hand rolls up the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

My hate filled eyes fix upon the fresh scars of terror.

The blade touches my skin, I press a little harder.

I slice the knife still trembling because it might be too much.

I keep slashing until one begins to drip.

It's like I'm a junkie with dope. 

My hands stop trembling.

I catch my breath and the world and I spin together again.

As soon as I see red I'm back where I need to be.

Calm enough to crush my pills and snort the powder into my nose.

Then the world shuts off, one light at a time.

Before I can realize, it's midnight everywhere and I'm no where to be seen.