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.

Like a cat, you like the attention, and when it's given, you turn your tail in disdain. I hold on tight, hurting you and hurting you. I haven't wanted to let go.
But you need someone more graceful, more patient, someone of stronger will.
I'm not that.
I'm a dog, in need of attention. We're opposites. I gnaw on your tail and you only see my teeth.

I will miss you..

Giving me the strangest dreams at night, as I look for her in a place where she could be anywhere in the universe. I'll always be looking, through every dream and every nightmare. Driven by nothing more then gears and bolts, a cold and calculating hunk of metal. **I've become a machine, and I've been designed a failure.

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.

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.

I spoke to her yet again.

I've seen all that she can do even though I've only ever seen her once. I've heard promises and spoken words. They slide off her tongue as smoothly as the genuine truth, but it isn't the same as when I first met her.
I've come to terms with no longer knowing who she is, but the fact that I can still read her like the palm of my hand has me asking why I still speak to her.

I'm fully in control of the outcome, but I'm still lost. Engulfed like a moth to a flame, dying slowly knowing that I know her better than I know myself.
I'm a fool.

Time goes on, as I grow older, the fear and doubts grow with me into a chasm in my mind. You fall awake, I'm another year older and you don't know who I am. You fall away deeper and deeper into this chasm in my mind.
This abyssal feeling wakes me from sleep terrified that you aren't next to me. Only a ghost in my arms, staring into my eyes, feeding this chasm in my mind.

A sleight of hand, and a boot that fits. Tightly; so tight a long walk seemed a step backwards.
So he walked, around the rings of Saturn, given the spins. He dances, a waltz for Venus.
He manages to steal his own heart, before she can.

She did not keep the peace, was not the conformist in silence, was not a normal person. She was the rebellious martyr filled with centuries upon centuries of the world's anger and trash. She did not yield for a rule, never  stormed for the greater good of currency, and was born to die. But of course, not before she recieved what she thrived for.

Seems I've found myself in someone else, and now that those embers have gone, my shadow goes with it.

Once again, who am I? Am I the lovelorn insecurities? Am I caring and compassionate or have I just convinced myself I am?
Am I true and trife, or am I just a masked phantom, waiting to drop the curtains with the chandelier, and say I love you again?

A will of written beauty, only visible to truly wholehearted. The wonders in his eyes seen through words, the atrocities witnessed.
He always asked if these words would last forever.

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.

All my old writing was as accurate as premonition, as if I wanted a tragedy to JOLT ME from my sleep.

The silver lining is I suppose I got what I wanted,
it just wasn't the tragic self harm I dreamed of.
More like a tragic mistake that destroyed the boy I once was, and the girl I once knew.

If you found out that all the terrible things your family have to say about me are true, will you still
Choose me?
If I was fiend in disguise trying to be better for you,
Will you tell them they're right?

The rain came down, tapping the window as if to get our attention.

The lightning flashed to the beating of our hearts, in sync, in pulse. Faster and faster.

The clouds stirred above our heads, and the darkness comes to life.

But we don't turn, though the rain birthed a mote for us to witness.
We are not blinded, though the lightning flashes the vast sky.
And we can see, though the darkness is evergrowing.
Right into our eyes.

Absolutely nothing in this world could come between.

Oh, what I wouldn't give, to love you, with innocence in my eyes.

My love, could you be the ignorant glint in my eyes? I want to forget all the sinful things I've seen.

Blind me, my sun, strip the sight from me that I cannot forsake you, that you can trust me wholly and truly.

A kindling at bay, a linking uncertain. Even though the flame was not lit, it was not dead.

The crystalline water, so clear and so calming. A wash so deeply needed, a cleaning of my sins and hardships. An ocean of wonders and ravishings, a vagabond at last had found his dear home.

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?

Everytime you go,
My shadow follows.

It lays it's weight,
Upon your shoulders.

And I'm always so sorry.

I've had this feeling lately, a feeling of not knowing what I'm doing, but no longer caring. Feels like the wild, full of danger and fear. Stupidity and stumbling.
Feel as though I'm a child all over again.
So much to be afraid of, but oh, so much to see.

The woman in white visits me at night,
She knows when I'm alone, without you by my side.
She knows when I cry, and when I sleep. She knows that I make you weep.
She haunts me through the night, the bed will soon no longer smell of you.
Only me, and the woman in white.

They say that time heals all wounds, but where do I sell my time to heal my soul?

I wholeheartedly wish you good luck in endeavors I'd rather you wouldn't attempt. I'm absolutely oozing with selfless insensitivity.

I was six, heard a sound in the night, I slept the night away. Woke that night, tired, confused.* We leave, gripping my mother's hand as she yells.
This is it.
The day comes and we are back in that claustrophobic house, I'm choking on cigarette ashes, thirsty. Slight memory of the crackers in the cabinet I could never reach. I had a bath later, and little to my recollection now, he was there, my mother is there, vaguely remember. Faint sounds of loss of breath, splashing.
They aren't there now. I had forgotten entirely. My sisters had not.
I am  twenty one now, a loss of innocence grips me, I am angry everyday and I hurt the ones I love. Everything that I never want to become brings me fear, and haunts like a sound in the night.
Tired, confused.
**This is it.

I remember everything we ever said and did. We both had our problems, and we both made mistakes we sometimes couldn't take back.
I will forever hang every mistake I ever made over my head. Yet, the only mistake I could ever hold against you, was this.

Couldn't you have thrown me down just a little harder? So I wouldn't have had to bounce back, so I could have just cracked instead.

Flashing nightlights outside the window, taps and bangs to keep her remembering throughout the night what she had sown.
Crashes that struck to the beat of her tired blinking eyelids.
Ground that for a moment was hotter than the sun, the thought of it made her feel alone. No warm touch to comfort her cold skin.
This storm would never end, would it?

If even only for a second things could seem clear, I would choke down every last drip and drop of alcohol in this unfreezing world.
Every last drag and hit of each and every intoxicating drug.
I would reveal every single one of my addictions through this shallow looking glass to inspect for the rest of my life.

Including this addiction and drug we call love.

I can feel the trembling in my ear, I'm afraid of myself. Worried I'll predetermine the rapture, and have you running away.

I wouldn't call death a real comedian, more of a two bit clown. He rehearses the same punchline at your doorstep each day.
"life is a joke, so I'll take it away fellas."

Tattered and bruised, feeling used.
Let the dust settle, and wonder where I am, where you last left me. Kept me in the dark long enough for me to understand that I don't need the light. The dust has sealed tight upon my skin.

Yet again, I feel the doubt filling in my pigments.
Are you different?
Forgiveness is something I've longed for, what right do I have to strip it from you.
Am I different?
How many times must I forgive you?
Am I truly deserving of that forgiveness as you are? Are we the same?

A day out of the past are the days that seem like a dream. Please remember that things are unreal, but are also very very real.

I just woke up, and once again, I'm unsatisified. I hardly have time to do a thing, it's never enough time being with you. My happiness feels so frail, waiting to be turned against me at any given opportunity.
How many times will I have to leave before it becomes enough?

He always said he didn't dream.

Why can hate for someone grow when you no longer know who they are? Why can we be sad when we're also happy?
Why do we exist in a world where everything is supposedly coincidental?
Were your feelings of hate for me coincidence, when you confided in me, and I in you? Or was it always supposed to end the way that it did?

Why do I want you to forgive me, when it no longer matters?

What's more difficult in life,
than living with yourself.

It brings me solace.
That you'll forget about me in time.

You only know to appreciate things when they're dying.

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

Get out of your head
Get out of your head
Get out of your head

Stop being such a fool, let her be happy.

Even if you want to be happy with her.

My vision of beauty may be distorted, but I can still recall enough of my innocence to know that you were absolutely beautiful.

Phantoms burnt prints into his bones, left behind marks and indications to let the world know of the vacant vessel he was abandoned with. A hushed physical being that never spouted a murmur of spirit. A vessel in need of a soul to split.

Each time I opened my mouth, it felt like I was speaking in vowels. A-E-I think you are an angel.

I opened my mouth and it felt like my soul was speaking in vowels. And what came only ever sounded a little like Y-O-U.

I start looking at past conversations as I wait for a reply, my heart has sank. I am shaking as if I'm standing in a winter wind, but I'm alone on my bed.
This girl that I once loved speaking to more than anything is terrifying but calming me all at once.
I get her answer, and I realize that she doesn't hate me. It's something far worse, I am no longer someone she cares for, I am unexistent to her, I am nobody.

And when she responded, some buried part of me that never sees the light wished that I was dead.
Perhaps I would be somebody then.