Author Information
Warmth
Folder:
Self harm/Suicide 4/1/02
Its taste is Putrid, Bitter
But it leaves my insides vaguely warm
Like my skin last night
Laced crosses of tingling welts
Smeared with drops of blood
I lay in bed, the world quiet
Even with Crazy Town’s obscenity
Screaming in my ears
All that my mind sees, feels
Are the reluctant warmth of my legs
