Jagged gashes on my skin,
blood spurts from within;
fractured brain, a silent cry,
another day jus'passing me by.

Jagged notches, screaming edges,
people sleeping in the hedges
under bridges, tearing flesh,
sticking spikes, right and left.

Many things make me bereft..

When I'm rushing, on my run,
do I feel like Jesus' son ?
Or am I a mere blank slate 
wrestling with fate?

Abhor this body on the floor.
not a second more
when the blood  began to flow
rain transformed to bitter snow. .