A Knife that draws no blood

A Knife that draws no blood 

Alluring experiences, tantalizing my soul. No, No, No, but even without my consent the cycle restarts.

A slice, A slash, A cut or a gash.

Tempting, Tempting Oh Oh so Tempting. But I ask, oh I ask! Why. Why? 

Why do I crave this validation—sensation. Or do I just tell myself I crave it.

I believe the answers to my ever questioning thoughts do not exist, For I do not want them. I inquire, inquire, inquire frequently though, I truly do not care. I do not care. I DO not care. I do not care why this  toxic, deadly, unforgivable action thwarts my wants—needs.

Though... do I really know? Do I really feel this lazy? Without care? Back and forth, and forth and back these thoughts rage, go, though, no, I don't know. I don't- no.

Alluring experience, tanatalizing my soul.

Yes

Yes

Yes!

With my consent this cycle repeats. 

Thwip, Thwap, Cut, Tap

I don't know. Know that what, I'm an addict!? I don't believe in that.