Poetry of Addiction

Picture a teenage girl cutting her forearm with a knife, gaping at the wounds with morbid fascination. And picture her, 20 years later, a grown woman with a career and faint scar hidden by the sleeves of respectable adulthood she now wears. Sometimes, when she is alone, she likes to roll them up and caress the light depressions of flesh dug by her teenage angst, now replaced by a guilty longing for the darkest hours of her life.