I didn’t do it

at least I haven’t done it yet but I said I would

I said I would because I needed to

because it would take the urge away


the literal and the metaphor

are both always more than you bargain for

but don’t make deals with me

I’m dishonest and aim only to please 

so please





It makes sense now doesn’t it

doesn’t it

I wish it did 

but it doesn’t

it doesn’t


there’s the itch, the rub, the scratch

right there 

right THERE

and all I can do is write about it

because talking takes more courage than I have at my disposal


so I just kind of softly run my hand over my skin

over where the scar would be

over the map of my past sins

over the blade that would bite me

and I just wish wish wish 

I itch and wish 



until I’m fuming with futility

and in tears wishing to tear myself apart but instead

I sew myself together and kill

the itch,

the wish,

the be alive. 


About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

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