Will I ever be happy?

I’m not.  Apparently the enemy is inside me.  I want to…watch the blood spill--crude knife ripping across flesh.  Its tone is so beautiful, so rich.  It drip-drops.  It stains the floor as traces of agony run down my arms… 

And I smile.  For awhile I feel gleeful, even strong.  Indeed, my pain has deepened.  As I face the ruins of my soul, I see a serrated blade across my wrist.  And I’ve dreamt.  I have dreamt of a tombstone, revisited, as I roam the yard. 

My family will grieve.  My beloved will mourn.  But who thinks about that when one’s spirit is writhing in flames?  Thoughts invade my mind, and I want to.  But somehow, I find strength to leave my “Obsession”, to keep her away from my bleeding heart, the sorrow. 

I am insecure.  My words and actions have injured my beloved like a knife twisting inside her.  Yet I come to her, and as she holds me, I struggle to know how it is I could harm her. She is my hope.  She is my orb of light when all the world seems dark. 

It’s about time for this piece to rest as I’ve quite some work to do. 

The conflicts. 

The demons. 

The rage.

Where do I put them?  Where do I put them?  It governs my life, and if not through death where do I put them? 

I want to survive, to wash away the blood—to love.  And I want my precious Orb to awaken from this like a bad dream and be whole again.