I don’t believe you actually hear me.

You listen too strongly 

and can’t begin to fathom 

The continual storm of impulsive implications 

that jut themselves into my jugular.



Tearing and gnawing at flesh-

Pulling until skin snaps like spandex-

And I’m bleeding again.



But once the smeared scars sink 

Into my skin and 

I’m healthy like before,

Except now I am a liar.



So I scrape and saw away a little bit

At the end of every day and

Bruise my own cheeks for the sake of honesty.



And now I’m back at square one,

With your ears wide shut

And your eyes closed wide-



Why is the never-changing truth

That if I do not bleed, I must be lying.