It was the blood spilling out of my mouth.
The words barely coming out-
My eyes are losing their life,
hope was lost and still my faith is strongest.
With your words in my head.
* * *
Falling for death, falling for failure, and Loving her drew my desires out.
Her blood tasted so good.
Her scent was full of iron and crimson in colour.
Asking her to cut her skin she replied only after you taste the blood I sacrifice-
On my knees under the beauty of the Sun it tasted like no other has
My tastes were young
my initiation was over
Like a beast after knowing its desires
My actions were uncoordinated
It was she who pushed me to kill for her,
But my Love for her drove beyond reason
It was hell where my last days would be spent with my lovely death looking down upon me
Tempting me with more futile actions she asked for more blood to be spilled in Her name
My time had come and gone, the end was already neigh-
Lets not mince with action and much less words.
* * *
waiting for someone to come out of somewhere
I cut my self yesterday-
carved your name into my skin.
Bleeding out, the blood made my feelings go away-
Once you drew my blood and it hurt so good
Now the memory cuts deeper than it should-
it was the pleasure of your mouth
Like the last breath of my heroic suicide, you let my knife outline the pain under the Sun that day.
It was only in death that i lived a moment.
Death is the leveling agent-
Have i told you lately about Death? You make me whole and having you so far far away makes me yearn for your presence and nothing compares to your company and all your beauty.
Can I close my eyes- see your lips and feel your eyes pierce my heart?
your hair’s so soft-
Death can understand how a man can push forward even through the most difficult of times.
Not sure why i wanted to say these things other just because you drive me crazy- in a good way,
if I’m being honest.
Yours, and you cry mine
death, you know what to say-
it was mistake to enslave me,
she marked me, with her torture
short of breath, my body isn’t sweating, and it’s hard to see
what was going on was nothing to do with self abuse,
how had this all come to be?
murder, rape, these things had never crossed my mind other than, being better than cancer.
it can’t take me down, but my body’s sick
her bite made me melt, and her taste gave me life.
There’s nothing to lose, nothing to gain, there’s nothing waiting for me- Or so thinking to myself allows me to do what it is that happens every other time.
Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other.
Everything happens in one direction few things are done once.
-everything gets done nothing is left to waste
no one dies and
who needs not be taken care off by themselves
you are the easiest variable to manage,
when this began the essence of the script was written-
you said you couldn’t and denied the acclaims
but now, after all this time your ready,
ready to be your end and know the path is set ahead
there was no message other than the one left for the death date-
Letter of Unloved ,
money was a problem with the lover
all the time invested had become his payment
be patient,when there’s no time left and no time at all
take your time,
-it’s just that there’s not a lot of time to spend
be on time, be clean, be more and a little less of the who you were a time ago
be nice, be friendly
money, if only money had , some more time
my thoughts can escape me and my time can escape them
what is time-
my money was all put together to remember, my time
OK- going insane and time has always tried to push my self over the edge,
all that’s needed is a reason and two or three thoughts and the right currency to buy my time.
god of thought had a son
his thoughts explored evils and goods
after much time apart
knowledge met wisdom
instigating with nature
death could come, around any corner
thought met the prodigal son
once again they met-
home again my son
ready to die
leave this shell of a body
it’s a proud day when
god’s son is ready to die
it was useless to think-
He would dig up the dead with you-
visit a burial ground and extract the fluids from their bodies.
-ours’ will come out later, written in blood, our approbation will be felt,
and the dead have no place near the living, thebeing-
there’s a faint smell and it seems we’ve been here before,
when we dug up the dead, we were young
the bones had not yet broken down
it was useless to think-
This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd
numbers…There is divinity in odd numbers, either in
nativity, chance or death.
Then if you see a man resentful that
he is going to die, isn’t this proof enough
for you that he’s no lover of wisdom after
all, but what we may call a lover of the body?
-death must not come and get me- looking for death was better than waiting for it to find someone-
death and more death, the details of littered peoples, filled the ground and even though you could see the sidewalk it was covered in mere places by greater things- bodies.
You are alone when no one is alive,
you are alone when you are dead.
Death was an illusion, a mirage of sorts in the epic scene of life, the panorama of reality.
the philosophical life is the art of death-
life and death-
jumping out of windows, on TV
it was not a movie, and it was not a show
there- were no actors- no comedians
People- have died from jumping out of windows-
-jump out of a window two stories high
when your young & dumb-
jumped out of a window just for fun-
two hops- a ledge- a swing- a fall-
when we went to school we learned to leave-
the teachers helped us jump
the youth and innocence
the outside thinking,
what a wonderful philosophy,
they’re not worth any of your tears
don’t bother he said to the monster,
I’m going to kill my self
I’ve already made the decision before you finished
it’s so I have control-