Red

Red bubbled up and out of small slits,

Neat, clean, deep

It dripped down an arm,

Making steady rivers of crimson

A giggle forced itself out of a throat,

Tight and constricted, 

Lost in the burn,

The pain,

The overall thrill

Of a knife digging into flesh

Pale, porcelain, skin,

Marred with scar upon scar,

Crack upon crack,

The jester cannot perform tonight,

He is far too sick.