Last Resort-Addiction

An earthquake runs through my dangerous hands as I bring the beautifully sharp paintbrush down on this dormant volcano.

Horizontal stroke.
Diagonal stroke.
Vertical stroke.

Like lava, thin streams of red flow
down the sides
onto the glossy wood floor.

AHHHHHHH…
A sigh of satisfaction escapes my swollen lips.

As the red leaves my body
an ecstatic sting
travels through my limbs
what a wonderful thrill.

My drug.
My addiction.
My mask.
My life.

Merciless, annoying voices scream in my face.
One.
Hideously heavy hands pounce pain onto my aching face.
Two.
Fake friends use whispered words to stab me in the back.
Three.

They drive my hand to my sharp paintbrush and the canvas of my skin.

Ecstasy.

Addicted, I welcome the delightful danger of senseless slicing.

Bang!!
Boom!!
Bam!!

As all the doors slam shut
I’m left in a lonely room
Embraced by darknessthe paintbrush shines, the only light of love.

Ciara M.