Wolf

It doesn’t start out
as a scream this time,
but builds from a slow scratching,
a low whine.
A wild animal waking up, pacing.
Moving frantic and bars clawed.

I lie on my bed,
and stare at the ceiling.
I feel it inside me
as animal breaks from its cage.
A wolf snarling bristle,
I’m agitated hopeless,
and I’m losing my mind
as I’m losing control.

I sit straight up in bed.
My wild wolf has made his way
to the very surface of me.
I feel him trying
to jump out of my chest,
every beat of my heart
a freedom attempt,
each slipping bit by bit
from already tentative control.
He’s going to take me.
He’s going to take it all.
I need to give him something, stall him,
because I am not quite yet ready to go.

I jerkily scramble
through my bedside drawer,
and I find my amiable blade,
amongst random bauble scraps.

I sit in bed
with my razor
and pain,
and my wild animal
barely restrained,
but restrained enough only
not to tear my own wholly
horrorbeast body to pieces.

I see only blood,
pouring rivers of blood.
and I see myself,
stretched arms impossible wide,
sliced from palm to shoulder,
wretched red from both sides.
I see the blood
from my flapping throat
gush down my body,
scarlet contrast starkly
with my brittle naked pale.

Then the walls start bleeding,
and the ceilings swooping in,
it is poisoned birds
and choking clouds
And I don’t know where
or what I am.

My mind has disengaged
as I scrape the blade down wrist.
Deep scratches,
Claw marks,
Again. Again. Again
My wolf falters final
and lets me breathe again
for now.

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