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It starts with the visions

The faces appear, the lights are flashing

My brain is going supernova, but the focus is so controlled

The piercing faces drift by

Mocking, taunting, challenging me to go forth

My doctor says I shouldn’t see such clear images

When I close my eyes

If he knew the truth, I’m sure he’d say I shouldn’t have the impulses I have

Yet he’d be astonished with my working knowledge of the human body

When the needle-point lights over-power the visions

I know the pain is about to begin

The fireworks grow bolder to where it’s like a goddamn apartment

Building playing musical chairs (behind my eyes)

I can feel the blood vessels constrict in my brain

And the pain would put a stroke to shame

When I was young, tearing apart my flesh would get me through it

Now, I can’t even feel that pain

I awake from a black-out exhausted from blood-loss

But the purge is not satisfying

Slowly I learned to channel the pain of others

A razor on one was worth twenty on me and then I could feel

Of spaces and places within

Every migraine is another piece of the puzzle

Each incision with a handful of pills, and I become god

Following the path of ambassadors, sifting through piles of blood-stained memories

Ending a stalemate of existence

Lacerations create where lacerations have healed

Photographic calculations: perfectly placed