A need to feel it.
To see that crimson rush.
And fight through the pain.
The razor hits the flesh.
The world suddenly spins.
A red color all around suffocating deep within.
A tiny addiction has now grown too strong; it seems to smile.
Wanting more.
Give in to cease the pain.
Numb.
The street that had been so seemingly familiar goes dark.
The addiction needs more.
A light to the road is crimson with hate.
Quickly slowing breath.
Open wrist, quickly slowing breath.
Pulling; pouring poisons out, it's bite fills the lungs with sharp air.
Last heart beat,
Done.