The Blue-Winged Suicidal Monster

Short poem. I'm interested to know how others interpret it.

The blue-winged suicidal monster
is back.
Cobwebbed and drowsy,
Nothing like the bright one.
Bright one is fierce and fire, rushing wind up my
nostrils.
Blue is slow and hurts like
needles in my lungs,
Pain in my thighs from being frozen.
Throat raw and swollen, salt stinging on the way down
to my stomach.
It wants us to die together.
Lithium blanket does not help.
The monster is waiting at the door,
Calm, inviting, and sure.