I used to cut myself, seeing my blood fall, wondering if
I could bleed dry the vein that inks the surrounding with
Essence of ones self. a smile lifts on the crease of lips closed.
In darkness it bleed inside, the thoughts of ending not my
Own, to release the bonds of some others life. I started with
Walking by, just a gentle tap of a scalpel, screams echoed loud.
Always crowded streets where my playground of rouge, as
Their veins wept ****** tears. So many cried upon touch.
Never seeing that intimate contact weeping life so much.
But my thought cut upon each, bleeding the urge to extract
Others life through the action of a touch. I wished then to
Be still, for my kiss to shed their life upon the floor.
To end breath is easy, it takes a single action for their motions,
Breath to be expelled with the playful intent. Could I end it with
But a motion or fill the demon with its needed fill.
Motion is set, timing is a clock that counts down, till that second
Where they are still and I am fulfilled. I will burn for this deed but
They will burn before me, all will be cleansed and all evidence gone.
