Gruesome Thoughts

I like to imagine how it would feel--

The pain of the sharp edge

Digging into my flesh,

Opening me up to the world.

The feeling as the blade slid down

Away from my palm,

And towards my bent elbow.

How the thick red would tingle

As it slid down on either side--

Slow at first then like a river.

I imagine all of this

And then I imagine how I may look--

Pale, white edging on blue,

With red swallowing me on either side.

My eyes, which have been dull for so long,

Even more so as the life slipped from me

And onto the cold floor.

I picture gruesome things--

On occasion they are constant thoughts

And other times they simply enter for a moment.

Good or bad, 

These thoughts come and go,

In and out like the tides--

Sometimes I wish for them to stay;

And others I fight them off.