Scalped and peeling skin of virgin laments
Broken hearted suicide at three am
The early waking dawn of last night’s tragedy
Carved into verminous veins
Scathing with golden luxuries of contempt
Slown moon shivers
Negating passive pretenses momentarily eclipsed in a sea of blood
Bathed in the shallow light of the mirror
Our reflections burn brilliant hues of stygian darkness
What remains buried is unclear