My fingers run along the sharp edge of the blade -
Perfect for the deed to be done.

I love the feel of sharpened steel against soft flesh;
The saline aroma of blood is a comfort to me.

Pain to erase pain,
So I can feel neither.

Forgive me for my choice,
Wrong as it is - This is my addiction.

Carving into my own flesh...
What is this think that has overcome me?
Pain to erase pain.

Cloth soaks up blood,
'Till the pulsating ceases.

Water on steel -
Erase every trace of this.
Open flesh,
Now bound in white gauze,
Covered in cloth.
No evidence remains.

My foul deed be done.

I am finished.

kbt/1-28-08