Stopped by

As sharp as the needle piercing my skin,
It rips open blood and goosebumps.
I thought I could manage the pain,
But my clenching teeth say otherwise.
In a cold winter, and on a lonely weekend,
It seems venom has found its way into my mind,
Making my ideas foggy
And leading all that ephemeral satisfaction down the drain.
I don't know if I want to continue inhaling
Ink through my lungs.
The doubt that seems so carved in my chest
Is finding its way out,
And I’m still not prepared to confront its demands.

At least it's leaving a beautiful tattoo...