Bone Marrow and Toast

Cut through layer upon layer of dying cells,
dig deeper, separate my shabby flesh.
Press harder,
celebrating the blood spilling,
decorating my safe haven floor.
Artistry at it's very best.
Dark, plum purple
leaves whispering veins.
My favorite color, splattering
against a concrete floor.
Irony painting it's story,
on my walls and rug.
Break my creaking bones,
as I half heartedly search
for a way out of my
own shelter and safety.
Self infliction at it's very best.
The sound of them cracking
fills the hallways,
echoing underground.
Spreading my marrow,
like butter
along the eaves of your personality,
so you'll never forget the day
you took everything....
but my pain away.