Submit to the blade, to the internal code
of the self-infliction of misery.
Summon forth mourning,
to paint the visions in blood,
(and deeper yet, to never feel again).

(Tormenting memories) drifting upon the fading tide
of all that is known as "life".
The awakening of yet another dawn,
(merely) the opening of old wounds;
For are we not forlorn?

Yet these wounds,
these very wounds I cast upon myself,
are deeper than even flesh itself.
And this misery, this utter fucking torment,
is darker far, than the (devouring) shadows beyond life.