I sit on the floor leaning against the bed.
There is a knocking at my door
Perhaps it is just the ringing in my head
Who knows
I lift the bottle to my lips.
I take back the pills,
Washing them down with a wave of vodka.

Tilting my head back, tears stream down my face.
Now or never.
I look towards the door one more time
"I'm sorry"
my voice raspy and broken.
Without realizing my hand presses the knife to my wrist
Looking down I see a glistening spring of red
It erupts from me with a burst of wondrous pain.
Enjoying the pain blossoming,
I repeat the act over and over again.
Because I am lost
Because I can't stop
Because I don't know how