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Cold-Bones Jan 2015
This upcoming February darkness,
I fear is going to take its final toll.
Not equipped to comprehend fate's
sick intellectual twisted game.

Memories from our past life,
rushed through my veins.
For it has only been one earth year,
but this time warp we got ****** into,
seems like a lifetime ago when I first inhaled your radiant chemicals.
You threw them into my path of airwaves.
Lost,
knowingly  aware there is no going back to what was or what could be.
What source of love is this?  
Much more than just  
the chemical  dopamine.
No.
More complex.

Yet my foe reality,
is always waiting around the corner.
Can't seem to get it on my side.
But determined 
to stop and wake  my pathetic urge  of hope I
shamefully still hold  on to.
Blood stains my scenery and memory pod.  
No these are no trophy's.
Your curse is my beautiful divine punishment.
  

Reminded
of the genuine ways  
of what humans use to call a real "man".
That i never  shown effortlessly
due to my selfish actions.
How insecurity brought out
the wrong demon inside me.
And vacuumed, and blacked out  the fire
we both in lighted together , nothing but catastrophic intentions.
Our souls entwined as one.
Our  hell we planned to decimate as one.
Side by side.
Our own oblivion.

The beginning of our lovely  journey seemed too flawless.
Your false pretentious of how I was everything
  that you thought I'd be or not, left you blind to my tool of manipulation. .
Oh *** I knew the potential of your sorcery.
An amazing charm.
from the Genesis.
Still I did not object.


Your eyes glazed and burned like 100 suns into mine.  
Brighter than the suns destroyed
and countless planets obliviated.
For my own beautiful art
of genocide done by my own hand.
  Inspire of how we came into each others existence,
you  seemed  to  still acknowledge the common moral
Ways of the human race.

You came With fair  warning of the curse you were capable of casting,
one that had no ending.
An amazing disease. A plague of never forgetting your beauty.
A face of all goddesses.
Perfection.
A Masterpiece.

Fully aware of the costs of this suicidal journey.
blessed to even fill  your breeze
on my face from your
predisposed aroma feeling my cold lungs.
Shutting them down slowly.  
savoring the thirst of this process.
Ironically feeling more alive with your fire still burning inside me.  

Ablator synced to support my youth lungs that are now blackened by your hex.
Vitals balanced.
But for how long?

My sweetheart can I get your forgiveness?.
Selfish acts   corrupted   what was  once my soul,
And put yours  at stake.
Betrayal   got the best of you.

Years of  agony and torture I suffered without your embrace.
Our binding contract of loyalty I broke .
Smile of grace from ear to ear,
racing thoughts of  how I dreamed of
dying and to see those eyes one final time.
Look of Satisfaction fills your resplendent green eyes.

Patience ;
you have mastered build for this particular day.
my sins,
my evil deeds have  caught up so you could finally witness this  
moment.

Vitals slipping.
As my ablator slowly loses its power source.
Drifting away,
yet lifted in levels above to be
holding your hand a final time.
While I take my last breath.


Rest easy
with a peace of mind when you hear my flatline.
Baby thank you for this disease.
The cleansing I always thrived for.

My love forgive me.

Slipping higher.

Gone from existence.

From your shattered soul.
This piece is very unique. I'm honestly so in love with this.
So complex and deep. So much meaning into this
Cold-Bones Dec 2014
Never let me in.
I'm the curse that will end you.
If you let me have my way, I will tear you apart.
My failures will cast impending  darkness
Into that little heart you wear on your sleeve.
My venomous words will tear you limb from limb.
Its a cycle.
Over and over.
My psychological problems that you blindly keep falling for.
Its a cycle.
Over and over.
Cold-Bones Dec 2014
Escape of dreaming with a broken heart. And dwelling with the feeling of waking up.
Sleeping becomes addicting .
So the 3 hours past noon creeps up on me. I can not bare it no longer. I'm a coward.
I'm sinking. Will you save me?

My sober thoughts eat my soul bit by bit. Feening  just that one sip.
Falling  for the same **** tricks.
Clueless.
The idiot.

Like being left here to burn in the place's you've  standed. Gone. ******. Stranded.



So its time for my daily cleansing with my buddy jack. Everything is beyond blurry.
Skeptical thinking but you start swirving.

I'll always  Slur   on words you'll  never say. Clever little girl I know your  games.

So far gone from reailty, how the numb senile feeling reacts so smooth.
I would try again with hope but then again that'd be the *****.

So I'll  celebrate  in your honor on this wretched night.
Lathered in my own shame.



Slowly loosing  my composhere step by step. I'm crippled and running out of legs to stand on . im a mess.
But my sweetheart your the closest to hell I'll ever be.
My Eyes glazing  blood red. hatred. Torn to the seems.

But my darling wasn't this what you wanted me to be? Or was it how you've  always been good at dropping to your knees?

Hell who knows.  Forget my name .

You always have your own way ,
blinded by the greed of lust and waist low pleasure.
Seems your the one shipwrecked and lost.

I'm so far gone.
But jack my buddy, one more drink
And I'll move on.
Cold-Bones Dec 2014
I'll take it back to those dark dim light streets and start again.
I'll never look back over my cold shoulder. There is now static  in the midst.  Like the final curtain call of a tragic happy ending. Deranged by this false pretension that you have embedded into my beautiful flaws. Lost in my own Dark morgue holding a ciggerate in my hand. Every drag closer to my dead line, but more bliss than dying next to a harlot, liar, and trader.
Baby why couldn't of you of just trusted my word? Now just look at this mess. Your beautiful mess. My disaster. My best gentlemen suit  now ruined.  I can wash out the stains of regret, but not the blood on your  filthy hands that isn't your own. Set the trial. Prosecute the guilty. **** the false idols and beat the cheeks of the ignorant.
Your a addict for  those tall tale  accusations that feed your hunger. Like the deep belly of the beast that is never satisfied. Seeking the image of your face to destroy, but your  faceless to my devine  perspective of a fake object I once looked up too.
Set the trial. Prosecute the guilty. **** the false idols and beat the cheeks of the ignorant.
Your beautiful mess.
My disaster.
I'm so very fond of this piece.  A lot of regret, agony , anger , and pain is much interrupted. Key points of my experience of the past year.

— The End —