I love the idea of healing,
But I'm not just suffering from symptoms,
I am the sickness,
Punching myself black and blue,
Refusing to stop until I'm soaking red.
I'm better off suffering from the thing that kills me,
Than cutting away parts of me until useless fragments remain.
Like the captain that goes down with his ship,
I will never see salvation from this point onward.
This disease has seeped into my cells
And now I'm more sickness than human.
If I took away the biggest part of me,
What would I be left with, but emptiness?

Cold, lonely shower.
Watching the skies turn dark grey.
Soft piano notes.

He knew it was love when he awoke in the middle of a dream that felt like the answer to a prayer and he didn't care if it was god whispering the truth in his ear or the devil selling him a lie and he knew either way he would love her until this lifes last breath and find her again filling his lungs with the first of his next