Pink-tinted vision. Eyes bloodied from sweat dripping into them. Rose-coloured I see clearly and I do not see. I am contorting, stretching, breaking myself in new and old ways. It is why I cry. Searching inside, I pick my nose to bleeding. I bring the drops to my mouth. Hot copper on tongue. I find nothing. Just pain and dry lost dreams tears cannot water to life back. So I stopped crying. Just pain and a mourning for things undead. Red in my eyes, inside me is red. Outside is red, where I slit my wrists to purge my demons and slit their throats while kissing them. Reaching in and reaching out, reaching back out with scarlet, reaching out for crimson.