It's a siren's song what my skin commits every time I seek punishment, it's a lost caress that makes me pay a visit to the grave every time my eyes look for blood. It’s an unexpected invitation, but a desired one that happens every time my nails find the burning in the veins. And it’s all poetry when you look for excuses to keep the heat in the pain, just to silence the soul.

Because everything sounds more beautiful in art when you show the canvas of your arms with a laugh that is a choking cry. And it is a word that remains in vomit when we say that it is sick the way we are butchers. 'Cause, it feels like a goodbye kiss that never ends, and your body just wants these murders as to not feel guilty of all this coming and going. 

TA.