The urge resurfaces, sweaty palms, heart in the appropriate place,
sharp like wit, consistent, consuming, with a gluttonous appetite.
My eyes scan the room, searching for hidden treasure,
I take the razorblade, pressing it hard against my skin, dragging
the tip until it is swallowed by flesh, euphoria washes over me
as I inhale the feeling, basking in its entirety, possessed with power.
A smile lacerates my face, blood leaves a trail as Hansel did,
I preach what I practice, unto only myself, I triumph in the battle
against myself, revelation doesn’t prosper here, nothing does,
no-one rallies my strength or holds a pale banner to my name,
I swim ashore then roll back into the ocean, the wound spits,
Fluorescent lights engulf me; I fall out of ambulance doors, hallelujah.
And buy Tom's amazing book of poetry: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Loves-Gutter-Thomas-Glover-ebook/