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.
As if to bear witness to the
biggest of my big mistakes,
there was thunder under-
ground; a ripple expanded
through the rock beneath my
feet, and I almost lost my balance.
Grant Morrison via
There is an obscure object in our desires.
you wanted the best
nice and easy but it was so hard
knowing too much meant leaving you
In my old times, when we were young
it meant more to me
it meant more to me than most things to be with you
before we met your picture was found in my paperless wallet
thinking, back then-peels away the layers of your true skin
it was never going to be what the past had shown me
Every time things are special, they are different.
in new times it’s necessary to never conform compromise and crowd.
Holding your ghost close to me, before you had a face, we learn to dance together.
Didn’t know anyone so far away as in Alaska,
Once she said she was far away and gone in Alaska, from her friend.
All my letters will bequeath the emotion of a humanity with compassion
To be right you must understand wrong.
Some countries don’t have any mail
All my letters will go to a place where there’s no mail
My words were stolen and reused and recycled and that’s only two steps
One step short of my surrender allowed me to understand my sacrifice
My letters told her about some things that were felt yesteryears away
And All My letters are sent to Alaska-
Ahead of me, a revolving door of black glass cycled chilled air against my skin. Behind me lay 50,000 chapters of personal biography, stamped like countless footprints in the mud of history.
its funny in the end, sometimes.
To be, where once you were not,
to like what you once did not.
Being someone you are not-
like, only before and now,
its funny how it doesn’t matter,
its funny how…
the setting is the same, but different-
She was pain, she was torture,
She gave me the gift of opposite energy-
it was given and taken at the same time,
the ritual was to draw my blood,
Bending the rules, my will stopped her pain and turned it into pleasure.
Just an old man running out of time with an ageless princess-
it was all beginning to make sense,
the pain felt good- it hurt but the pleasure was divine
She said, she wanted to hurt me more-
She said, she got pleasure from it-
from hurting me her pleasure was given , and I pleased her well
She told me
in the beginning it meant nothing and now the sacrifice was not my surrender,
my passion was painful but, sweet and the bitter feeling was having it stop
it made me feel alive
It was then after we knew each other that all this was introduced.
Today can’t even explain the later future, none makes a clear picture, except yesterday-
Introducing my self again doesn’t seem to help,
and it happens every time, it’s true-
but, to afford the truth is something more than apologies, mis-happenings and unoriginality
blinded by my production, by the mode of my system, the operation seems consistent-
sometimes it seems that the same thing is different
she told me from forever, from the longest part of time,
from a dimension in the forever-
it was so and then it was differently so
remember, keep remembering, in time nothing is reality-
the vacant thoughts of memory rang bells but different faces filled me for a short time,
it wasn’t until they understood that half empty was full that the two themes could smile upon one another.
control and sensibilities have nothing to do with deliveries and yet the water under the bridge must be chosen.
With birth comes future death,
thinking back it was today that need to be here yesterday and the day before, but vacant days have the chance to be filled later.
so now and then, perhaps the thoughts elude you escape your memories, and then again they feel fresh.
Spoiled with a rotten stench and a change of color it was then that definitions meant nothing.
your dreams will never come true
my dreams are better dreams than realities-
it was in the past that everything meant something
with the perfection of staying still
but when its not around it seems not so special
talking to myself in the first person
third was the name they used to call him
it made me happy to think
it means more to stop
when this all started
this is bound to end
the dolphins never told me what you said
each time their messages rang vacant
of your presence there was nothing
something stayed behind
it was me
it was change
we will meet, like so many other times-
it feels rather comforting now, every time our meetings come
but it was only what was inside me that made me feel half full-
now and again things don’t change, don’t get better and don’t get worse-
they used to call me breaking even Steven
does anyone feel perfect, my imperfections make me desire
nothing is in the future
so my letter goes out to no one, and everyone
the day after today, everything will be the same-thing.
we will meet, we will communicate and really it was
adorable how I yearned for it
-was nothing like today going to be better?
the day was never ending,
it wasn’t until last week that time had been de-constructed,
reality seemed to be in the flux but my constant was self evident,
giving up my perceptions was the makings of yesterday
tomorrow was filled with the what ifs and the what abouts
but reality dripped of the here and now
it wasn’t until now that
it all didn’t make sense.
the last letter outlined too much and so little.
few words would ever be communicated,
its become somewhat difficult to have better days,
Everyday it gets better, every day comes and it was the last thing you said that rang in my ears-
over and over but never quite different
it doesn’t matter-
when things started off
my intentions were complicated
now and then
there are always the implications of my actions
How are you doing today, sir?
Well- or maybe unwell.
So is there anything else you want to add?
Well…, I am here aren’t I? the in-it times don’t come with an example to draw from.
To be direct, it all ended a couple of weeks ago-
The black cloud, oh its a metaphor i know all to well and
if I could just know
what do you want to know?
-How do you know now when it all started? or ended?
I don’t that’s how it keeps me on my toes you know-
well it’s better that way
there’s only one we can know for sure,
of what we know
the flux paradise, a thin slice of reality and its imposition on the dreams of forever-
everything always changes and nothing is worth knowing unless its what I know
Yesterday came suddenly…
The plans hadn’t been made before everything was damaged goods
tomorrow is another full glass of water
Deconstruction of time took years and it wasn’t until my time had run out, that
everything made sense, if only the meantime had been the different times
this statement is false
all the time wasn’t spent in dimensional time and