Shooting Blanks

Its scary to be able to actually feel yourself holding the knife in your hand. The blade is sharp as my mind takes over. So real that I see myself shove the tip into my body, straight through my brusied heart. Pulling at this cap, the bottle falls to the floor, red pills scatter. It only takes 3 of them to cure my headache. A pain that spirals me into an unbearable state. Puke streams out of my fragial body as tears run down pale skin. Think 5 or more of these small red pills would end it. It wouldnt hurt, wouldnt feel a thing. Shake the bottle, it would take only minutes to consume its contents. I think about the gun. Its cold metal placed upon my temple. Pull the trigger way back. The bang seals the deal. But the pills, now they scare me. They are the real way out. And to think I am holding the bottle in my hands. Its all right here. Bottoms up pal, today is a happy one. Today holds a way out. Its hard to die when you are already dead. Indeed I am already dead. It started with the tack. Pulling and scratching at my flesh. Digging out what I hate so much. Trying to let the pain bleed out of my. Leaving only this X behind. It holds all my fears and shows me how to let them go. But this is no way out. Its not only hurting me.So I do it for the people. Im still here for the people. I am hurting inside and the people are to blame. Look at me! Im still here, living, because of the people, the ones that make me this way. Now thats a twisted game. 1/9/04