Posted by in Poetry, Writing

I’m hurting and Im low, so I type, erase, type, erase.
Sometimes a status is an outlet, sometimes your undoing.
Sometimes there’s no one else to hear you,
no one really listening, so you shout it
from the rooftops so that you don’t have to jump.

Today, I thought of cutters.

People who have to slip a blade across their flesh for relief.
The way they must feel the pain rising up out of their bodies like a noxious gas,
the sigh of release.

And this is an age of digital cutting, isn’t it?
When some of us have to cry out, publicly,
have to open up the door to let a little darkness out.
And then there’s relief.

It’s not about who hears it, it’s not a cry for help… it’s an opening.
Secrets can be so overwhelming. I’m hurting and I’m low today… so let me cut.