this infection

i get into these fits of mood
that make me want to kill myself.
it's self-destruction, i suppose.

i keep my sharps upon the shelf.
i need to fuck my body up,
i'll die before i ask for help.

i sometimes burn. i sometimes cut,
or pierce my flesh with sewing pins.
when i'm not starving, i throw up.

i shave my head down to the skin.
one cigarette? i'd rather two.
i chase my beer with shots of gin.

it makes me feel somewhat new,
these things i feel i have to do.