Stream Of Thought

Dark dreams studded with fear,

A blood spattered manuscript of abuse,

Like an elongated suicide note,

Distorted like a fairground reflection,

Surreal like thread binding cut skin,

A glass pane full of masked pane,

Everything circles the drain with diluted crimson,

Everything washed away but never forgotten,

Hangs in the air like a lingering frost,

The perfect weapon developed through trial and so much error,

Bleeding hearts and rotting souls,

Locked in living, yet decaying shadows of humans,

Flies gather in dying flesh,

Infect, some bruises never heal,

Spider-web hearts,

Delicate, intricate, easily destroyed,

Another nail in my coffin, in my wrist and palm,

Scarlet nails scrape my face like a demon,

An arch of flesh and blood under each one,

Silent suicide pact,

Raising boundaries, blocking out light,

Silence locks me inside my own mind,

Eyes sandpapered brimmed with liquid ink,

Each crystal bead stained black,

Stand on the ledge, back turned, a statue in an alcove,

Fall backwards into icy, blood-black freedom.

The End

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