Today I crave a box cutter. I crave the feeling of pushing the blade out of its confinements. I crave the thick, steel blade against my skin. The instantaneous blood that seeps from my newly fresh cuts that are soon to be scars fill my body with adrenaline. Not the type of adrenaline that makes you feel like you could lift a car, no. The kind of adrenaline that makes you want to go outside. The kind of adrenaline that makes you feel like you can actually be a human, and do normal human things today.
On the days that I don't even feel like getting out of bed I crave these things. I crave the expo craft knives I threw away a month ago. I crave the ice tempered stainless steel razor blades that I have stashed away in my dresser.
But today, today I crave a box cutter. A thick, long box cutter.
Between the constant thoughts of my lover and the blood that could be pelting the tiles of my bathroom floor, my mind can become a place of chaos.
Regardless, today I crave box cutters. Like pianist craves keys, the petals, the chair. The craving for the dance. The dance only the  fingers of a pianist could dance, running across the glossy black and white keys of a piano. Oh how the ivories feel against the palms of your fingers.
Like a virtuoso craves a piano, today I crave a box cutter.