suicidal ramble part 2

A Poem by winter;lyra

honey dip
i honey dip
count to three
i count to three
beneath my sleeves
fake or slip, be the last clip
ten to six be the last thrill
and then it goes, yeah heat goes
burn my scalp, my flesh, my past
erupt my skull unfold
master splatter,
ew
gooey ladder
then at last, sensorial repercussion
dysphoric diurnal slumber into dream
premeditated sleep

guilty