Down the Drain

how strange,

the warmth of it

running out over your own cold skin.

how strange

to be witness to

the life draining out of you,

running away, escaping

down the drain.

the dark red rivulets,

the arterial blood

washing everything away,

carring the pain with it...

straight down the drain.

and when you feel semi-human again,

you pull the needle out,

leaving only one slightly visable mark,

the only trace of self inflicted hurt,

the only trace of a life slipping

down the drain.

Reviews

[Adrian K. Smith]

I had never quite made the connection until now, though this is not exactly about cutting (it being about another form of bloodletting). It is interesting to note how many doctors and self proclaimed doctors throughout the years have "prescribed" leeches as a form of medical treatment; believing they would remove the sickness and impurities in the blood. We even have dialysis to filter blood these days. It is not that far of a stretch, to see that either cutting or some form of bloodletting is not an attempt at healing in much the same manner as what a doctor would prescribe. A little self prescribed treatment if you will...

...still, it kind of messes with me that you wrote this. I hope that all is well.

[Jade Mayhew]

I loved this poem. It was very visual for me, I could picture most of what you wrote. And, as much as I don't like admitting it, I can probably relate to it better than I first assumed. Wonderful job. I liked it. :]