Testo Self-schism

Lord of the irons, yet master of none.
White hot from the pyre, but the damage
is done.
The wax has melted; reveal the wick within
Begin total bisect. My fingers grip the skin.
Blood flows downward when the nails dig in.
Scalp detaches; bregmatic cranial split.
Self-Schism: The last chance of escape. Devour the hours until darkness is left
The mind exposed so the illness can drain.
Hemispherical rupture; cerebral chasm remains.
Let division continue. Palates and ribs break.
Organ partition fall to feed the snakes.
Self-Schism: The last chance of escape.
Devour the hours until only darkness is left.
Only darkness is left.
Pace slips from my life.
Dread consumes.