Wednesday, February 2, 2011

INVISIBLE INCISIONS By Jasen Sousa

INVISIBLE INCISIONS


When I take a knife,
hold it tight,
and proceed to slice my head,
I imagine it as being the same feeling
when Christ bled.

Staring myself down, listening to my heart pound,
but there is no sound when I make myself bleed.
Cutting, checking to see if I’m still alive,
a sensation I need.

From the hush, to the adrenalin rush,

to the blood

that gushed down the side of my face.
Not just shedding my blood,
but the blood of an entire race.

Moments before the murderous moment,
blinds shut to block light from the sun
so no one will see what I have done.
Blood covers my face, blood covers my body.
God! What have I become?

I am an only child, an only son,
I am the only one.
It’s lonely where I come from.

I think about that
before I create open wounds.
How could anybody possibly relate?
The need to feel alive, like no other pleasure, it consumes.

This is my addiction, my habit,
to take a knife to my skin and stab it

and let out all that is not pure…




Taken From
Almost Forever By Jasen Sousa (Written between age 22 and 23)
©

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