Staring down at the red carpet, I long to melt into its scarlet exterior internally composed of charcoal. I slowly imbed the silver into my wrist and as I open the wounds of my life I watch intently as they spill over my trembling flesh. I begin to cover my inexperienced epidermis of anxiety in jagged slices of inabilities and unattained desires. I feel the agony dissipating as it seeps into the admired carpet with the dry blood of regret. Fears soaks up the jumbled mess of wool as I shed the skin harder until my flesh burns with emptiness and relief. Gazing at my torn skin I regretfully feel a twinge of remorse and dissatisfaction as I attempt to draw more blood, more pain, and more power. Flakes of sun-touched skin dust to the floor in their unique snow flake pattern of persistence and continuity. I reflect upon my taunting stars venturing to foreign galaxies of tangential unrealism as I feel my conquests slipping out of my stinging flesh of discolored susceptible distress and onto the carpet of absorbent pain. I remember all the problematic endeavors of my day and I reflect upon a brisk walk through streets of familiarity and disguise as I ran from butchered urge to deform my unworthy flesh. I'm no longer afraid of the dark.