And as he sat alone in his room, he felt bitter remorse. Who is it that he hates? Himself, or God?
Maybe he'll die someday and remember what it felt like to be human, but until that day comes, he's nothing but a parasite.

They say pain makes for great inspiration, but I would have given all of my inspiration to have never experienced this.

A lifelong amount of moments to a matter of seconds in my head, a few drops of liquid in my brain that could have erased all of the miserable feelings in my uneasy gut.

You used to always roll my sleeves up for me, but now my sweaters are in the closet and they're catching dust.
And now winter is coming, but I would have worn them for you in the summer.

What am I to do to fill this gap inbetween us. Maybe I'll fill it with the trash I have laying around my room, or in my soul. Maybe I'll fill it with a million hours of occupation, money, and material objects. Maybe another could fill it with their baggage and sadness, their big eyes with questions of doubt and love.
But no, don't you dare trust a thing I say, because I have not a clue what could possibly fill a hole the size of the universe.

Everything that we ever saw together, every time I made you laugh or you made me laugh, every feeling and memory we ever shared and made, has been reduced to just two strangers with dust in their blood.

Everyday since she left it seems as if the world is going to just stop spinning. The feeling lingers like a cough or a sigh, a slight pain in the head that happens when you're alone.

I don't want to think about it, so just let the world end while I sleep on it.

Why do the roses dance back and forth in the howling winds, as if to spite me in some way. Shaking heads in disagreement, as they breathe in and out. Huffing as if to show their disappointment of my every little detail.

I may not be a rose, but you could pick a thorn off of me and still feel love.

Suddenly I could taste her breath in the air, almost as if I had just kissed her.
But I hadn't, I was alone in my bed.

I'm haunted, by some sort of phantom pain.

I don't have nearly enough bravery to look her straight in the eye, I've only ever had enough bravery to laugh at the memories that lie around each nook and cranny.
But the dark only grows darker in every twisted little rabbit hole, it's a quiet colorless feeling that makes everything so entirely pointless. The kind of feeling that makes you fear that there is nothing beyond death.

I told her that she would love it, because I knew that she would. Was it selfish of me to hope that she wouldn't love it more than she loved me?

Even if it was dark, things felt a little bit brighter.
When I laughed, I always felt like I couldn't stop.
When I smiled, she'd smile back.

Now it seems so quiet, but yet so loud.
I'm screaming inside, and I'm kicking and I'm punching.
I'm screaming so loud that I've lost my voice, I can't speak and I can't hear.  I'm just another tree, and I feel like I'm going to fall. Will anyone hear me?

You can live without me, and I can live without you, but who's to say we didn't already die.

I plunged into what I thought was someplace beautiful, but I can no longer pretend. I only want to set this world on fire.

I told you the carnies were ripoff artists, but  If you really wanted, you could have said the real prize was the love in the air that night.

When you get dealt a **** hand, and have no eyes to stare into along with an,"it's okay".
Remember that you can walk away. And you may not be the happiest you can be, but you can still be happy. And you can tell yourself that it'll be okay.

I didn't know what your heart desired, and we can say that's all there is to it. I'm very afraid, but you don't need to say it's okay this time around.

Happiness at every point, dreams and activity around every corner.  Motivation isn't a busy process without a one single queen or king.

Her beautiful brown eyes no longer stare into mine, I don’t have much use for my eyes.

No longer an ear to hear me say I love them, I have no use for this voice.
My bed is void of her to hold, no use for these arms any longer.
I can no longer feel her head pressed against my chest, I have no use for my heart.

I’ve lost the one I love, I have no use for my life.

She said you can hate me as much as it would hurt. She sobbed as she cried those words. For the love of my life to ever even consider that I could hate her, it broke my heart.
How could I ever possibly hate her, she created me.

As I lay surrounded by only you, I continue to ask myself,"do I not have the right to say I love you?".

I often stayed awake, wondering if she felt anything like I did before I would pass out. Late at night I would come to terms with the fact that I am alone again, and that I wasn't taking it as well as I pretended to be.
This was all beginning to seem like some sort of cruel joke.

A rendition destroyed.
A composition disforming.
A mistake was made.
A failure was gained.
A regret pondered.
A lesson never taught.
A cosmic orchestration to be repeated over and over again.

A vague description of all that is emptiness, a ghost of an overwhelmingly beautiful goddess.
A man who would come to hate everything, even himself.

The void would be his blessing, the darkness his light, the pain his motive.

Feeling like the **** of the Earth, at the bottom of the gutters. Only me and these tireless feelings of regret and sadness. Only me and my death.
Let's only hope for this so called resurrection, otherwise this is the end of me.

He missed her so much every single hour of the day. He always spoke of her when he had the chance, so much that he was sure that everyone grew tired of hearing him.
But he didn't have a care in the world, so deeply in love that he was certain he would do anything for her. Even die.
She was his dream, his love, his life.

His Sunshine.

The one you truly cared about wants to forget you, not even your shadow will be left to remember. All that ever was you is gone now.
To die from a broken heart truly is the worst death of all.

He always said he didn't dream.

Road **** laying in the gutters on the side of the street. Empty feeling of dispare as he ponders on the dread of death. Second comes sadness as he stares in the rear view mirror.
He turns to look at her in her big brown eyes as he tells her that he saw.
Together they faced the **** each and every time they were on the road.
As much as he tried to protect her from this, all they could do was acknowledge it together.

Destruction to something as pure as love will surely lead to a gruesome demise.
Whether it be the demise of your inner self or outer self is your choice.
Although, you could always go with no choice.

Always wished they would die at the same time, always wished it would be painless for one another.
The next day in the newspaper an article arose, two dead in an accident, doctors say their hearts stopped simultaneously.
It was almost like a message to every lover who set out in this world, no matter how terrifying that moment could have been, it was reduced to nearly nothing when compared to being apart. It was ironic, they used something they feared deeply to find peace in such a petrifying experience.

It was beautiful.

Her fingerprints were a maze I was hopelessly lost in.
Her eyes were the sky I could only ever look up at in awe, never to break through the clouds.
Her lips were the mountains I would die on, to forever be a warning of what lay ahead.
Her heart was a fire I would gaze at in the night, never to grasp in my palms.

She was chaos.

I held her in my arms tightly,
so tightly I was sure she could feel the shivers going down my own spine.
     No harm would ever come to her while she was in my grasp, but **** me if ever I held her too tightly, so tightly  I myself were to hurt her.

Romance was a bullet to the temple, he may as well have been sentenced to death as he approached his gluttonous desire. He couldn't nearly last another day at this point, unquestionably desperate he gave in to the feeling.
Oh, the glory he felt as he held others in the palm of his hand.
The day he satisfied himself, he truly died, the day that not even god wanted to remember who he was.

Even in death, there lies beauty.
Though it brings absolute hopelessness, we thrive off of it. Would we even be living was it not for the fact that we could die at any moment.
  You see, we are animals, and as animals we instinctively seek to survive. We didn't learn this at birth, yet somehow we still knew.
  But are our instincts all for naught?
No matter the effectiveness of the path taken, the outcome will always remain the same.
  So the question to be asked is not whether or not to be, but what can be done for the ones left behind once we stop being.

The only mistake to be made was before death, thinking to myself as life was leaving these old lungs. While another was begging for one last word, some way to keep them going.
I would do anything to speak to them even if only one last time, I would haunt anyone and everyone if it meant I could get even one letter across.
Even if my only form of engrossment was through scarlet rivers, sacrificing the brightest of souls, or overcoming the darkest and most treacherous of hollows. To reach her. Absolutely anything.

The day he met her was the day he wanted to be carried.  It felt as though he had died then was resuscitated back to life by a bolt of lightning.
She was beautiful in every sense of the word. A goddess in the reflections of his eyes.
Hair that was hot to the touch, eyes that could pierce darkness with ease, and a smile that could speak any tongue.
And he knew, the day that she goes will be the day that he goes as well.

There I was becoming apart of a time unknown to me, with a woman I had barely met. "I'm going to tell you a story.", she said.
"This sky you see above you was once a bright romantic vision to gander upon. I used to ponder  each night of all the lessons that could be taken from such a vast wondrous space,  but over time it darkened, you couldn't even tell the night from day. Only empty space was left. Yet, despite this , it's mystifying spell was only strengthened and my curiosity was brighter than ever before."
She spoke of the irrefutable wisdom each had to lend, how neither light nor dark were more significant than the other because they were indifferent.

That black sky that once shined incandescently became the first wonder of my world. My god, what a cold sight it was.

To think that they would speak of desires and wants so soon, want shall bring disappointment, disappointment will only bring sadness. I've come to this wretched place to speak of a beautiful end for the each of us. Disgusting parasites leech the middle and beginning so ferociously that the end is only going to crash and tumble.
Take time with what is going to take place throughout this burdensome story, or your end will be atrocious.

A sleepy boy always awake, always had his eyes open so wide. Only another few minutes he kept telling himself,  in a few moments he would sleep.  In a few moments he may finally rest.
An optimistic boy, still awake and calling out each and every detail. Only another few hours he kept telling himself, I'll make it till then. A few more hours and I'll drift off.
An ambitious man now, awake only from the ******* that coursed through his body. Only another few months he kept telling himself, a few more months and he could finally take a seat and maybe greet some of his dreams.
An unfulfilled man, awake and completely overwhelmed by life and it's instantaneous moments. He no longer tells himself a thing. In a few years he knows he'll be gone.

Another night he slept alone in his room. Wondering what his dreams would bring, and what his nightmares would prove.

  How his dreams brought him nightmares, and his nightmares proved he had dreams.

A girl appeared to him one day, as beautiful and virtuous as Venus herself. As a saint he was inquired to leave her be, one could even say that an appearance such as this could be named a trial of faith, an incredibly cruel trial. And oh how unquestionably worthy of his title he was, but not nearly worth as much as a caress of her warm hand. He almost immediately let out a cry as he cursed his god. He left his eternal oath to enter the beauty and darkness of the unknown. What a wonderfully dark abyss it was.

And the one and solitary way of telling another's true death was in their eyes. A chasmic color of some sort attributed, to prove a loss of hope and a gain of want. Had it never came to flesh and bone, it was not a death, but a hopeful wish for the soon to come. Now leave the flesh unturned and welcome the new rising hope, the blessing of the east.

As many times as she said she loved him more, he would only laugh. This wasn't just an ordinary laugh, this wasn't out of amusement but out of some form of love. A lovely laugh we could call it, for a lovely being. And until they grew older, they continued to laugh as if the end of the world was coming. They had no control over time and knew they would someday leave this place. Such a dark dark fate lit up only by their smiles.

The right to appropriate all that is within their view is what they believe they had. Without any remorse for who got hurt as they spouted on about something they knew nothing about. And If blood ran red white and blue, they're hearts would be as empty as their cause.
What a sad way to lose your humanity.

His soul was consumed by her. The very sun that once had shined so incandescently, had darkened. Anguish shriveled him into a freeze, what was he doing with the time he had left?

The flower was yanked from the ground, because the thought of weeds the people couldn't handle. He didn't protect what needed his protection. He couldn't preserve an ounce of what was important. Spring has now gone, and it will not come again.

As he laid in death, he had a single thought. At this very moment that he was bleeding out, another out in the world must have the same exact feeling. Fear. But when the fear passed, the pain was gone. He felt relief, he came to realize he wasn't alone in dying. He wasn't ever alone in anything. The last breath left him and he passed away, but to his surprise all the weight lifted from his body, and he began to float. He looked to his left and to his right and caught glimpse of another close by. Then another appeared, and another. All of these beings he had never met in life, humans, and animals both spoke to him. Told him their stories and wonders of love and life, how beautiful it was. Their lives had ended, but they remembered they had planned this all along. Before they had names and stories. This anxiously awaited thought to be cold embrace, turned out to be as warm as an ember you could grasp in your hand.
The next moment he awoke in bed from this beautiful dream, but was it really?

The devil once told me of  a queen spider, how the title had little to show for in the midst of time and change. It explained to me that no matter who or what you are, there will always be change.
To give rise to that explanation, the queen died the very next day.