Feeling the blood,

The torrid crimson spilling over,

Sweetly scorching my skin,

I hear it screaming out of the gashes,

The mutilation,

Escaping from this cold body.

Cadaver with blood flowing beneath my flesh.

Deeply inhaling the smell,

Salty and sweet.

Metallic and bitter.

Sensing death near me

May find I am not so easy to claim,

Though I may let it seems so.

The brilliance and darkness of my blood,

Ripping my eyes out of their sockets.

Scratching ardently into my arms,

The sheer ecstacy,

Burning my mind.

One more cut...

Dizziness touching the edge of my thought.

Death's fingers raking the back of my neck,

Wind, sweet wind,

Coming to steal my blood,

That is sighing out of my seams like an exhale,

Sewing a scarf out of my flesh and sinew,

Dyed red.

Died red.

Scarlet beginning to fill my eyes,

Beginning to fill my nostrils,

To fill my mouth,

Fill my ears.

Ripped, jotted into the sky,

Ejected into a deeper darkness,

Discarded like a bloody splinter,

Floating, flying,

In this midnight,

Watching the drops of claret,

Weeping from my wrists and body like tears,

Into the blue.

Crimson stars.

Feeling it run out of my sore veins.

I ams a scar in the sky,

Bathed in a cold, red moon,

A star that has long been dead.

And finally fading.