Bled Out In Black And White

Disconcerting feeling has opened my eyes for the very last time
 This faith stirs an echo
 I hear amongst the safe and perfect waste
 A slow fear still creeping in
 Invasive and persuasive like a whisper softly convincing me to move on
 Lay waste to all the tangible explanations
 Nothing's as it seems
 Spit out the words to this question
 The validity of my future faults
 Carving my intentions with this blade of distinction
 Digging deeper still in my skin
 Twisting slowly, opening the wound
 Spit out the words to this question
 The validity of my future faults
 Spit out the words to this question
 Where do I begin?
 This line scored from ear to ear
 Telling a tale of exsanguination
 These (immanent?) fingers pressed against my neck
 Bleeding out the destruction I command
 This calm stirs an echo
 I hear amongst the sacred perfect waste
 A slow fear still creeping in
 Invasive and persuasive like secrets quietly convincing,
 And missing the moral in these eyes