Bleeding Servant Shrine

Their nights were silent and beautiful Their air, purely crystalline My voice refracted as light Breath expelled and aligned With the infinite black regime Which subsumed me Castles emerged from the drift Spires twisted, violent Cragged and sharp Bent to my touch Repaired through their dust And grayed with the flows of the brine Blood oozed from their fruits Perfuming the air Noxious, little death Demands I turn my breath Inwards, it glares Do I dare taste that which coats my tongue Water laps around my fingers "Droplets at the surface Turn to circles" Breathing through algae So verdant the skies Violent flashing excitations shine