Where will it end when my hands bleed my knuckles cry my teeth grit from their sandstone edge when the world halts when the moon does not rise when I stare into the burning mercy of the sun until I cannot see the horror of myself when the books have no more letters and pages to fill when I am content
in my dreams perhaps
when I am content and do not think about the burgeoning suffocating all taking all giving all consuming blood on my hands blood in my eyes blood as hair red as rubies burning that burns me from the inside like I was
born the burn.
When will it end this quest this adventure of the soul sword out to protect my most precious mistakes little gems of dangerous and sacrificial memories when she has hurt me beyond repair bones lying limb and curved like loose spaghetti strings blood is back in business is art and is movie and blood my ****** conscience always seems