I try to bleed a little bit each day.
Not a lot, just a little.
A nip here, a cut there.
No big puddles on the floor.

Shaving is usually enough
to make the sacrifice,
feed the dark gods,
keep them hungry
but satisfied enough
to let me get through the day.

The small loss
may bring the sunrise
that lights up my room
and the garden outside,
keep things in balance,

and send the demons
to the next house over
until skin heals
and whiskers grow again.