blood thieves

racing heartbeat and labored breathing
rising panic
trying to stay in control
trying to stay conscience
though there is something
pleasant
in fainting
peaceful really
for a moment
releasing the stress brought
by the simple
prick of a needle

I have a serious problem with needles. I know where it comes from, and I don't pass out as much as I used to (I don't let myself now that I know the signs). I have a doctor's appointment today, and I'm pretty sure there will be blood taken.

a previous draft

The separation exsanguinated my life, destroyed my hearth, deleted my colors. The landscape a new, sharp, painful white. Lines blurred evn to my own skin. No longer was there contrast between me and nothing. My own definition re-entered the miasma where direction does not even know itself. Mountains and oceans merged and thereafter imploded and left me crouching on the non-earth waiting for the vertigo to pass, feabily straining to keep me even on four limbs. The dry heaving reenforced my own emptyness, blowing white sand onto the blank canvas. Impalled by nothing. Before completely succumbing to the death of Life.

Heart shattered into Humpty Dumpty pieces and settled in my stomach to grow.

The drug floods, overwhelming the system. I moved. I ran. I left bloody footprints and redefined land and sky.

This is the start of this is false. It's nice to see where things start. Also to remember that editing and work are very important. I think maybe I can come back to this image of bloody footprints as the start of rebuilding. I wonder where it will go?