CW: Self-Harm, Drug Abuse

i promised to avoid razors if only it would

not fall. shiny white scars bisect moles on my skin.

the sky must also accept certain conditions.

like an injection of rubbing alcohol in the veins

(don't ask me how i know) the sun continues

to rise each morning and endorphins flood 

the drunken land. and then there is the moon.

cold and inert and i am gripping an ice cube

in my palm feeling pain. my therapist recommends 

it to me. this is harder for me to beat than heroin.

stars puncture the sky and the crook of my arm

has flecks where once there were bruises

emanating colors of dusk. for a second i think to sue

when bits of confetti rain down. three years.