Christening Poem: PLEASE COMMENT!

This poem I wrote to describe the events that led me to make my decision to keep "rising" from the ashes of the crap that happens in life. It's pretty long, but I hope you all enjoy it. If anyone would like more explanation as to what it means, or if you don't understand any image or part I'll be happy to explain it more. Thanks for reading =]

Indecision

Spattering her horizon with smears of internal malachite

she bleeds herself in spurts through a netherworld of emotion.

She’s nearing the edge of a rationality

that continues to sink under her weight. She

wavers, undulating like the web of mist that encompasses her.

She can’t decide yet whether she is relieved or

utterly ravaged

by the comprehension that this descent has

at last become truly inevitable.

Was escape ever really an option?

She rubs her eyes to rid them of the green film

that continues to revise her vision, giving an ominous quality

to the shadows that congeal and imbibe the potency of what

she thought were her most secret apprehensions –

we always tend to find ourselves out -

bedecked in every layer of recreancy and hue of rancid passion -

in the raw luminosity of the moment of truth when we least want to be revealed;

-when all we really desire is obscurity.

as she passes them, her corners collect every

misconstrued malignancy

her hazed perception is full to bursting.

She may be drowning -she can’t feel her own breathing.

She’s wrapped so very tightly in her own flesh, in the betrothal

of the earth and the unwieldy cloak of sky that smothers

her every attempt to touch the stars, in the hoard of humanity –

tidal asperity that continually crushes her, fracturing her very sanity

and re-fragmenting the residual splinters of her essence.

She breaks into a run, drawing skin with patchwork seams

around the chapped and brittle heart it contains.

-blood trickles down her fingers, staining livid runes

onto the parchment tinged with rust where

the treacherous streams of red

evaded her attempts to confine disintegration –

It’s here –the boundary –

she gapes into the ceaseless transcendence

of cobalt flame that confronts her,

caressing her haunted eyes with flare upon flare of

somber electricity.

The unknown –the potentially fatal –draws her relentlessly,

she takes another step, reflection unnecessary

before the merciless enticement of her

doom.

–or rebirth–

Her lips drip a pungent taste of salt through her senses

as she contemplates and rejects the impulse to turn

for a last glance over the shoulder of her antecedental existence.

If she looks away, she will forfeit her own redemption.

So she screams to the capacity of desperation

and surges into the fire, limbs posed for flight.

This is her definition of finality:

this is her predestined sepulcher;

or else the incineration that paves the way to renewal –

where she will rise like a phoenix from the embers of her soul,

scarlet plumage accentuated by the sapphire blaze

of her second womb.