Bleed

Stuffed up again. I don't know if silence signals that the breathing is good. Breath should not rattle; I have never been able to sing, but mumble and exude thought and wonderings, through fingertips and unknowing, I have seen myself begin to pass - from knowing to knowing, from moment to moment, joy in joy. I was once possessed by momentum but was struck by such pains that not yet have the scars even formed; the lashings have yet to bleed, for 3 years I've just been staring into gaping flesh, waiting for blood to bubble and the pain to become real, the astonishment to fade and a scab raise. My organs have been marked before with scars, deep and wide, long and thin - I never paid them mind, but heard their stories and let them pass. What is different now? How do I begin to bleed? How do I let the scar breathe? Must I cut deeper to find the vein? Who shall take the knife when it's my own two hands I wish to bleed?