I let the sharp steel to slowly slide along the weak flesh of my arm. I paint my pain in red, and let it flowing free. The first drop running down my skin it's enough ink for a few lines. The nib rapes slowly the pure whiteness of the sheet, which is now tearing because of my poetic nonsense.

Today I want to break free from the chains myself made.
Today I want to be just one more entry in your mistakes list.
Today I want to have all the chances I know I don't have.
And I want them all. I don't care if I can't cover all of them.
Even more, I just want some of them to deny them.
To see if I'm able of denying them.

I stop, and think about my own nonsense. Well, it’s nonsense, right? Then what am I thinking about it for?... Maybe because it's a way to avoid thinking about a reality I really don't like. Might be the script, all known for me. Might be the direction of photography, which isn't the best of all.

But let's get back to nonsense. Nonsense. I say this word too much. Maybe because nonsense is all running inside my head. Nonsense.

You know, in the end I have no dignity at all.
I never had it.

If I ever believed to have it, obviously, it was delusions of grandeur. Delusions that slowly have been stealing my sanity. Delusions that have been imprinting in my body as thet disappeared. For every delusion gone, one more red line in me. One more tattoo to hide.

Paint me. Paint me red.
Paint me red and close your eyes.
Close them and pretend not to see the pain I've got imprinted on me.
The pain I've received because of myself.
The pain they've done to me.
The pain you have caused me.

All that pain, half of which I am sure you aren't even aware of. Are you? No, of course you're not. Maybe you are aware of a little part of it, but of all that you've made me cry, all of the horror that you've put me through... I doubt it. And you'll never know, that's the best of all this.

"I remember a night in my past.
The night I was stabbed in my back.
And it's all coming back again.
And I feel the pain again.

I abhor you, I condemn you.
Why? You caused this pain that will never end.
You got out without a single scratch.
And now you're walking on a lucky path.
I have to laugh... but you better watch your back.

I'm so empty..."

Whoa, look at that. I'm not ever able of creating my own nonsense. I've reached the lowest level of being pathetic. I press my arm with strength, trying to maintain my life inside me. The last drop still out is used to put an end to my nonsense.

Never will you be able to see the pain behind my eyes.
Never will you know to see the craving of my lips.
Never will I let you see the scars in my heart.