Dying blind (flesh as art)

When will we live? Do we know we're alive, all we know is that we'll die.When this came crashing I learned to live without my lungs.
Dragged over the blades, forced into the flames. Perception of a fluid moment, crimson rains on our escape. When will we live?
This iconography of the flesh must end. When will we live, we're already dead. The flesh must end. Watch us float. My spirit escapes me