. this misery is not so sweet anymore

Like fire in the water,
or like the cuts in your mind.
You tasted your spit,
and you swear there was salt.

Salt, like the flavor of blood,
that runs down your dirty face.
It runs down from your eyes,
in dark, crimson, tears.

Your hands are clasped tightly together,
so as not to grab the old knife.
It would feel so good to cut again,
and mark the nights on your arms.

Like open graves to jump across,
or like black waters to drink from.
You tempt fate with every breath,
and you still keep your eyes open.

Open, open to the broken world,
through which only you walk.
It holds your demons and ghosts,
like that odd sack of bones at your feet.

This misery is not so sweet anymore,
like the way you thought it would be.
It's time to let go, this dreadful place,
where only you dare to sleep.

Wipe the sweat from your lips,
and brush the dirt off your clothes.
Close your eyes and think good thoughts,
and come in out of the pain.