Liquid Flowing From A Slashed Wrist

Therefore, unto myself and a thousand stars did I cast a blade, and that blade did expiate with blood and euphoria the eyes that witnessed an aeon of flickering, though there is not enough sacrifice to satisfy the grinning and impious abysses of inevitability. To what shall I relinquish these secrets of mortal lamentation and cosmic disillusion?

I can only perish, that I may find my opiate in eternal pain I can only surrender, for wingless angels will inject heavenly emptiness into my veins. Dilating black and gray with the sun. It is so unearthly and beautiful, I never dreamed of a forever as beautiful as this I never imagined that I could suffer this deeply.
And yet I find myself painfully awake beneath a hail of razors and screaming skies of intoxicating agony, draining away the despair with a quiet and listless desperation Deliver me through the gates and spare not for me a single plague From my wrists, I will weave rivers and wrap their paths around the heart of my mortality.

Smothering the hope that I might save myself from this I manifest as the affliction that captivates my soul so lovingly But I wither behind a mirror Behind my eyes, just the same.