I search for my salvation at the edge of a blade. But that doesn’t help more than delays the fact that my past sins are creeping closer to retribution. Self-destruction becomes another shroud with which I can detach, reattach, and blind myself to fact that I’m not going anywhere and that nothing is being changed positively. Salvation from what? A world of pain, suffering, and turmoil. How could someone so close-minded as to call being different a “flaw” be able to understand this pain, this struggle between demons and devils? The ardor of life has been snuffed out for me so long ago that I am lost in a sea of lost regrets and future pains. Whatever path I’ve decided to follow just continues to leave me more and more hollow. I don’t know why I’m depressed all the time, could it be just because? Prescription after failed prescription won’t help, it never did in the past. But the days draw short, and the nights grow long, giving me loving bouts of insomnia. The death of an old god and the birth of a new one draws near, do I truly believe in these pagan myths?
But this shining one comes from beneath the clouds and shines beautiful black light upon my face, grasping my breath until I feel dead from desire. Can you be my savoir? Can you shed your wings and learn to live differently? No, I thought not, your human. Yet. I can’t stop mutating you into a form of divinity. My eyes seem to betray this fragmented mind, my mind can see the truth, but every time my eyes look upon this shining one, they deceive me with the cleverest of tricks. How nice of me to set myself up for failure. So it isn’t enough that I have to waste my paranoia on others but now it seems my downfall will be caused my own weakness and desire.
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