its all in good compliance not only to succumb to the scab that keeps getting picked at. The wound of my empty void runs feral through the damp mist, making the skin create pigments of discomfort. And alas, I do believe that it is all this simple.
//-Bleeding out underneath my clothing, and yet I regret nothing. Peeling back the cloth as it sticks to emaciated skin, See the flesh resist, and i cannot help comply.
green, grey, blue.. -metallic almost but, so blurred from beneath the membrane. only to surface for a moment ever-so-slightly to convey constricted entities.. green, grey, blue.. oh how I wish I could sever you.