My soul is brightened, revived by words. My shattered being becomes one again when I run my blood across the skin; paper-thin flesh hungry to be called upon by the deeper part called 'creativity.' Blood flows free yet controlled, forming words upon, giving both meaning and purpose when there was naught.

These words...These words...These words...mean nothing to my blood and skin; paper and pen, these symbols just fill the empty space, joining and giving us life and purpose...let the divine intervention of our joining translate those.

Thirst for more...Thirst for more. Draining dry, lacking space.

Continue on...Continue on...scratch across skin like the dying possessed. Write, Write, WRITE DAMN YOU DON'T STOP! To exist you must give of yourself, to stay whole you must not release!

Fill until you are empty! Recieve until you are covered...this unity is your only solace, your only peace, your only being.

FILL

FILL

FILL

...Lo, I am done, bloodless and covered head-to-toe in words. I lay down now, rest, breathe, let the possession fade away...until you are nothing.

Blood distances itself, dissappearing once more, skin wavers feebly then both shudder in anticipation...it is time once more, time to...time to cease being whole and hover in seperateness...

Until the time comes again...until the drive for more bloodletting comes again.