Blood
Blood masochism stories
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joshuaharestad
joshuaharestadHobby poet hoping to be heard.
Autoplay OFF  •  a month ago
Trigger Warning: Serious self harm details. I almost triggered myself writing it.

Blood

Red blood.

I want to set it loose.

To watch it run,

down my leg,

and pool,

on the floor.

God I want it.

So intense.

This craving.

I’d take my knife,

serrated edge,

and slowly saw,

into my flesh.

Low,

near the ankle.

A big scar.

Hopefully.

The bigger the better.

I like my scars.

And I want more.

But I can’t.

I mustn’t.

Can that stay my blade?

Is it enough?

That I shouldn’t?

Should is a word.

Blood is real.

It is life.

I’d watch it ooze slowly.

Coming out of me.

The feeling,

of release,

is so good.

But I won’t.

Not for me.

For my wife.

My scars hurt her.

And I only want to hurt me.

So I’ll hold it at bay,

that sharpness I crave.

For her sake.

I’ll not bleed today.

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