Just What This World Needs

my wrists hurt
a dull throb
extra sensitivity
I can feel the blood
running in them
i rub them
with my fingers
on my clothes
with my hair
to stop the sensation

I'm afraid to look
they feel like
they're bleeding
i clutch them to me
my breathing deep
trying to calm
hold them tight with my hands
to assure myself
to stop the sensation

remind myself
I don't toy with suicidal thought
or slashing for attention
but my mind already plays
so many trixies on me
I'm afraid this is
some hidden something

this needs to go away
the feeling that my wrists
are talking to me
asking me to do it

laugh to myself
another dead poet