Pins and Needles

Author's Note: After a recent discussion on Haylie's piece (very good, I would check it out) I realized that this could be taken wrong ways. This is NOT TRUE what so ever. In fact there is just a hidden meaning, something that I want to see if you pick up.

I drop it.

Red blood swells up to a drop on the tip of my finger. The scent of the dark sea fills the air. Reaching out, I touch the wall. The cold stone combines with the blood, and just for a second, I can't feel anything. My body goes numb, my life freezes, I feel free.

I pull back.

Blue skies flash across my mind. The sound of young birds chirping brings my mouth to a slight smile. The cracks in my lips spreading out with the more and more I grin. But after a quick second, a black cloud fills my brain. Old memories come flooding back.

I pick it up.

Piercing the tip of my finger, the needle breaks the barrier between skin and blood, outside and in; right and wrong. There's no going back. The pain sends a shiver down my spine, aching my body. After letting the metal tip inside, I pull it out, watching the blood bubble up.

I reach out.

The texture of the dark wall changes from dry to wet, black to red; alive to dead. What used to be there, now taken over from marks of me. I rub my finger around the wall, leaving proof that I was there. Blood moves around underneath my finger, until it dries out. Until it is gone.

I think. 

Pins, and needles cover the floor that used to hold dolls and pillows. Scars cover the fingers that used to be so innocent. Thoughts cover the mind that used to be so care-free.

I know I should stop...but I can't.