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Posts Tagged ‘ly kerr’

WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR?

By Ly Kerr

i’m waging a war
with myself.

there are ceasefires,
but i am currently fighting a battle on two fronts.
there are bound to be casualties.

part of me knows it is time to quit.
i can’t hold this front forever.
it is not possible to make him love me
equally,i can’t make myself stop loving him.
it’s painful to look at someone & see a future i can’t have.

half of me is ready to wave my white flag
and
the other half is prepared to dig in.

and there is the ongoing, dirty squirmish.
CUT
DON’T CUT
emotions lined up on each side of the barricades.
guilt & pain ready to face fear & sadness.
there is no victor.
i lose everytime.

Ly is a 29-year-old woman who has been battling self-harm and depression for 10 years.
She is an aspiring writer with a B.A. (Hons.) in English & History.
She is an animal rights activist and supporter of mental health awareness.
She has an undefinable relationship with an undefinable man.
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COMFORT HASN’T FAILED TO FOLLOW SO FAR

By Ly Kerr

i have a large oval shaped peach tin. it is pretty. it originally contained a selection of almond hand products, meaning it smells nice.

it now contains a selection of very different products.
hundreds upon hundreds of used blades. neatly packed into little sleeves, in groups of five. taped together and hoarded, for reasons i do not completely understand.

they live along side various needles.
some large hollow needles,which pierce my skin like butter and leave satisfying holes.
some smaller, more precise needles designed to draw blood from veins.
there is a cheery collection of colourful dressmaking pins. ideal for creating my own bizarre flesh pin cushion.
nestled amongst these items is a jewellery box. a long thin box that once proffered a gold bracelt. now the perfect storage solution for scalpel handles. two sleek insturments, one always weilding a blade. ready. its partner empty. waiting.

and of course, the final treat in my box of treasures. the thing that makes my stomach fizz to think about, hundreds of fresh, sterile 10a swann & morton scalpel blades. waiting patiently inside their gold foil.

a sick little tin. my greatest ally & worst foe.
i am constanlty aware of its presence in the next room. cannot for one second stop thinking about how easy it would be to flip off that lid. there is no escaping the the memories of my ritual. breaking the seal on a new blade, peeling back it’s shiny sheath. loading my tool of choice.

i want to feel the anticipation as i scan my skin for the right spot. steady my hand, clear my mind….

and strike.

one quick fluid motion. total control. the hot flash as i slice through my flesh. the indescribable relief as the wound gapes and my blood emerges. dark, dark blood. filling the gash. slowly pooling before sliding down my skin. warm, wet release.

i’d watch. savour the visual impact of the crimson stripe on my pale body. wallow in the moments peace. let the blood flow, drip to the floor. just for a moment, until the urge returns…..

and strike

pushing harder. seeking more destruction.
deeper, bigger, wider, better.

and strike
and strike
and strike
and strike
and strike
and strike
and strike

until the blood pours. skin stained red, hands sticky, clothes sodden.
pain, fear, sadness seeping from my wounds.

it has been 11 days.

i have a pretty peach tin, but i must not touch it.

Ly is a 29-year-old woman who has been battling self harm and depression for 10 years. She is an aspiring writer, an animal rights activist, and supporter of mental health awareness. She has an undefinable relationship with an undefinable man.

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