She knows naught but how to dwell in pain
and suffer, sees naught but black wastelands
riddled with bodies
Hears naught but her own breath, width of it unimaginable
what her brain sees otherwise is uncomprehendable
Feels nothing but the crawling of her own skin
as she RIPS it off
Warm blood settles the score
This is how she survives amidst
the scornful watches
of the night
“Crave nothing but death
expect from life nothing less”
I don’t know if you’re real or even
alive at all.
Fantasy from lonely imagination
of young woman
By reality. Drag it across your wrists.
Cut out her artery, leads to her heart.
Stamp out the vein that allows the passage of flowing blood
Let it splash her face
She’s no more
Written by your Skye, November 2011