sometimes i dig my nails into my skin because i am trying to get it out. they told me not to listen to them anymore. they told me to try not to submit myself to their grueling rituals anymore- so in attempts to practice healing, i hold myself a hostage in my bed. i resist the arms i see that are constantly laid out in front of me, tattooed with promises and wishes that assure they will be granted; these arms feel safe. these arms feel like home. these arms feel like home and i am so scared and so homesick. so i submit myself to their warmth. i want to fall to my knees into them as my body cripples, though i know that i am not supposed to lay in the tattooed arms of this familiar skin. but it’s so hard not to when they are safe and they are warm and they are peaceful. they are gentle as they draw the toxic adrenaline out of my bloodstream that is constantly hurting me.
and these arms are everything i need but they leave me so alone, so quick, in order to play the great game of hide and seek, so that no one catches me falling for them; back into them...
when they arrive again, outstretched like the hands of a lifeguard pulling me back up from the somewhere i cannot escape, they try and make me do something mad again. the arms unfold and this time my body cripples but i cannot fall to my own desire, i cannot fall peacefully even though i long for them to take me away, i am instead caught glued in position because i have to get used to the feeling of the tattooed arms not being there, even though they told me they would never leave me- i mean, i thought that they did? i saw the tattoo so vivid written in black ink and cursive, it said that they will never leave me comfortless, but i went to the doctor and he told me that i have to wipe the arms clean with a damp towel to see that the tattoos are only temporary calligraphies... so the next mad thing they tell me to do, i carefully watch the arms unravel and they say SAFETY SAFETY SAFETY NO ONE WILL DIE YOU WILL BE HAPPY YOUR FAMILY IS SAFE YOU WILL BE LOVED YOU ARE LOVED BUT YOU HAVE TO COME HERE HERE HERE HERE SO THAT I CAN WISPER THESE PROMISES DOWN YOUR SPINE TO ELICIT UNSURE SHIVERS THROUGH YOU...AND YOU’LL FEEL SAFE BECAUSE YOU WILL BE HOME, REMEMBER? but this time i remember. i remember what my doctor told me. i turn my head but the arms reach nearer for me and they pierce my skin with nails as sharp as a blade, and they try to pull the urge out of my body so that i do not have to feel the torment that anxiety holds a hostage in me... i consult the arms and i scream and i say get it out get it out GET IT OUT but they bring no relief and they dig so deeply into my empty bones and my tired organs and they cannot find the discomfort that is haunting me, they are betraying me- so i remember again. i see the tattoos and i watch them shape and move and i grab my tear soaked shirt and i wipe them- i wipe them once and the promises start to disappear and i wipe again and again and again and soon everything is gone and there is nothing there and devastation falls over my body and i shake and i shake and i shake and i scream as my mother holds me- but you see, she isn’t the tattooed arms built by safety, so i do not feel safe. i can’t escape, and the irritation that is running through my veins and to my head then back through my thousands of veins stays and it stays and it preys. i try to rid myself of the pains but the aches come like itches and as one disappears, another one reappears, and i am exhausted from scratching this innocent body. and i know that i should not grab my skin like it is taffy that i can rip apart and consume- it is gentle and it is home- but something always says no no no no you’re not safe get it out get it out get it out and the urge doesn’t leave and it itches me mad and i stab and tear and pull and pinch to try and perform surgery on my body to find the ticking time bomb that is causing the discomfort- but i find nothing. and it itches me mad
mad
mad
mad
mad
ilc