I digg my nails inside my palm, trying to contain the need to see my own blood.
I love cutting myself. I relish in seeing my own blood outside of me..I enjoy the sight of it.
The sight of blood.
It's mingles and twists in various paths, never having a real destiny. It's a long tear that leaves its ruby trace behind, a cold yet beautiful mark. Bloods colour is so distinct, so warm and filled with life..that outside the body it is remarkable. It's thick and filed with the flow of dark current. A symbol of humanity, of heritage, of nature. Of weaknesses and strengths. It is luscious and..I crave it.
......
The Morris operandi of a killer.
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bright stars shine only when it's dark.
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