Cut: The blade, the blood, the beauty

Longing for my fix of body art, I pick up my blade – a modernistic paintbrush. Tattoos and piercings won’t do. I want and need The Cut. I need to feel the blade, I need to feed the blade, I need to see the oozing blood. I need that feeling. White flesh gaping. The sweeping feeling where my arm starts to tremble and my breath comes in short and silent gasps, is making love to my sanity. There is no more pain. It left my blood through the gap in my skin. An antibiotic fix of freedom, relieve and love. The beauty of the act heals all. Put away the brush. Nothing happened, nothing is wrong and life goes on.