Far from life, I splice my skin
with blade and shard,to scar my form,
since hatred now to self has turned
and self-rejection reigns as norm.

Far from life,I scald my wounds
with lighted match and cigarette,
and pray for sanctuary in blood,
and kneel before the noble dead.

Far from life, I see no path
that upwards from this mire would soar,
nor hear the voice of loved one, clear,
who would me hold for evermore.

Far from life, I write this verse
to hound a demon from my mind,
but,swift is he to turn and charge
and, with forked tail, my skull to bind.

Far from life, I know not how
to stem this bleeding from my soul,
nor stop a death by suicide
from being my long-awaited goal.