colorblindness draped crimson 2.0

An edited version of 'colorblindness draped crimson'. Pain feels better in words.

a needle pricks my eyes
Corners, burning,
such pain and discomfort
surely would bring blood forth
I thought so
and the space before me,
indeed,
rendered blurry
fatigue woefully sapping my
will to go on.
the small trickle of liquid
carves a channel down my face.
It burns like blood
exposed to air after bursting
Out of skin
as it made my chin wet and
Gravity rushed it down my neck
and now i can feel it in my
Throat
blood filling it up,
Swashing, cleansing out
whatever voice i had
left.
Perhaps i swallowed the needle,
too,
buried it down deep
where it couldnt get to
my head
so it cut me
attempting to escape.
rising to my mouth
hot, rageful, searing
it claws up the walls of flesh
up up up
forcing
itself out
Taking over my beaten features
twisting, wrenching
molding an ugly wail onto my face
and lastly—jailbreak
through a silent scream.
please, don't let it be blood
since grasping at freedom from this
strange,
ch-
ok-
ing liquid
was a war lost in itself
Stinging
dried white scars left in its wake
Victory scars, I hoped,
though i—
know i—
lost the battle.
the wet substance trailed off
So i reached down,
lips kissing searing wounds
awaiting the metallic red flavor
yet it was
Salt
that
stained my tongue instead.