I'll fall asleep very soon
I'll not collect my ruins
My eyes, my soul
not alive enough
not bright enough
I've sinned so much
I'm unraveled
I'm unforgiven
I'm warped
I'm unforgiven
Unforgiven.

I'll learn to breathe very soon
Maybe I'll collect my ruins
My hands, my lungs
Not trembling enough
Not wavering enough
But fear is potent
I'm unraveled
I'm unforgiven
I'm rattled
I'm unforgiven
Unforgiven.

I'll learn to fall apart someday
There might be no other way
My bones, my heart
Not strong enough
Not fractured enough
Maybe I'm an abyss
I'm unraveled
I'm unforgiven
I'm fissured
I'm unforgiven
Unforgiven

I'll learn to live someday
There might be no other way
My soul my scars
Not bleeding enough
Not numb enough
Maybe I'm alive
I'm unraveled
I'm unforgiven
I'm undone
I'm unforgiven
Unforgiven

Our love started from hatred.
Their love started with dreams.
My heart was a valley
And blindly you crashed down.
Though you could not see the end 
You were afraid you'll fall forever,
But you seeped through my eyes 
and I held on to you for a million years.
You crawled through the webs
my capillaries were.
Beneath my skin,
you built a world of shadows,
with my blood
that could've been an ocean of mist.
And with my bones
that couldn't have been your shore.
You drowned in my veins
seemingly my scarlet life 
Because I carried you within my blood.
But, love,
when they saw you
hiding within my irises 
they tore me apart
but I did not cry,
and I smiled 
for they had not known,
you were me and I were you.
They did not see we're inseparable.
They told me I'm insane and hollow 
But, love, I promise I did not keep quite.
I told them you were with me,
shining through my eyes,
walking on the rail
(that could be my collarbone)
And stumbling into my ribs.
That you were my glow in the darkest dark
and that you smile but they can't see it.
They told me
that you would never come back.
I laughed but I felt empty,
so I told them that you never left,
that you'd lived within me 
for a thousand years. 
That you see the world 
through my sight,
That you breathe 
with my lungs 
That you're alive within me 
Because I've felt you around me 
protecting me from the lie they call truth.
They asked me to show them where were you.
I kept my hand on my beating heart 
and felt your heart beat within mine.
I smiled and bled for the first time (again)
And though my blue veins leaked crimson 
I knew I wasn't bleeding 
Because you'd had healed my wounds 
Long long long ago.
They asked me
to touch you,
and I —
I shattered.
They told me that I am insane 
But I refused to believe.
They told me I've lost you forever 
and I swear I —
I scattered.
Realization hit me 
through my soul,
tearing through my flesh.
Rancorous and loud
and throbbing and deafening
and blinding and heavy
and tangible and potent
and inexistent and alive,
an alive intensity humming
with life and immortal and eternal and everlasting.
My heart did not beat 
my fingers are still unmoving,
shins left split.
A scream was left dormant 
within my ribcage,
when it cracked my bones,
and left a whisper
that echoed through.
I did not know I was so empty
that whispers bounded off from my walls 
and drowned
into my flesh
and ripped through.
And my wretched gashes
spewed scarlet.
(My scarlet life)
I guess it was called bleeding.
But the memory 
of your last breath 
is the only reminder
that you were real.
Numbness and agony 
are my soul mates.
And do you want to see my inside?
Don't worry it's just webs and shadows 
and darkness and desolation 
and it's deserted and bleeding 
with echoes splashing 
within my broken veins 
and fractured ribs
and twisted muscles 
And wrecked smile
and gray and black.
But still-blue eyes,
staring up at the starless sky.
finding a constellation
that never existed.

I'm floating in amnesia
I can't remember
the last time I took a breath.
I'm emptying my eyes
through these tears,
until they're hollow —
so hollow that you wouldn't know
that vacancy could ever feel so full;
so full of emptiness.
This ever growing mayhem
cannot be contained
within my brittle body.
My scars might break open
the next moment.
I'm not very sure if I know
where they came from.
I know I'm afraid —
I'm so afraid of letting them see
the void I carry within.
I can't let them see
that my lungs
are pale sheets of broken muscle,
my heart is a shattered mirror,
scattered and buried
in the seemingly bottomless black
of my broken body.
Sometimes I remember my memories,
the screams and the nightmares and —
you.
I see you through veiled fences,
laughing with crinkled eyes
shining in a new shade of blue;
glowing with another
bittersweet betrayal leaking out
in your unshed tears.
You hold my hand
when I'm about to fall into chasm,
your precarious grip faltering,
your careless eyes vivid
and abyss-deep.
And you remember to let go.
I remember you let go,
and turned away
and I know your strength
because you never looked back.
I know the skyless ocean
is your home because I've bee there,
floating in something
I can't quiet remember anymore.
But you tell me it's amnesia
and I can't remember your name,
I can't remember
to remember something
— someone who can have
the precise blue of your old old
old eyes,
almost as though
they're too young
but I can't remember the difference
between old and young
but you seem so young and so old and —
so beautifully, delicately human.
I can't remember you letting go,
it's as though I'm insane and I am.
I am insane but why do you tell me I'm not?
My delusions are wilder,
they make me see me if you let go.
But please, please don't let go.
I'm not weak and pathetic
and I promise to forget you
(because it's the only thing I'm good at)
but will you never go?

I have shrunk to a thousand creases.
My dents have moulded
into sand and I'm built of nothing.
I might be brittle cascades
or a hollow dead star.
I might be a scattered ocean.
You would never know what I am.
The comets of my empty skies
emit radiation louder
than a thousand deaths.
Since a million years
I'm buried in vacuum.
My nerves are stapled
with rusted nails.
I've drowned into ocean floor,
I've been swallowed
by molten rocks.
This magma floating
within my veins,
is only your faded face
singeing me from inside.
You destructed me
and I've fallen.
I've fallen beyond grasp.
I've fallen empty,
into vacant depths of a screaming abyss.

I've learned to let people go.
Because no one stays
and in the end everyone fades
you have to learn to let go.
And accept.
So I let them drift
out of my life
and I try not to scream
because I've built concrete walls
around myself
but I'm still wounded
from the times they damaged
my memories and threw them
into abyss of bitter agony.
But I'm an hourglass
with no sand and
my time is standing still
and I can't breathe
because my lungs
don't carry wind anymore.
And I've wasted too many pages,
too many words,
too many metaphors
to explain this emotion
It's so palpable that I feel it  
throbbing in my severed veins.
But I can't I can't I can't
fill this hollow inside me
and I've learned to breathe
with drowning lungs.
I've learned to be dead
with a beating heart.

We're vagrant hearts and bruised souls.
Our veins are woven
into discolored skin,
pale and iridescent
in the sunlight.
The starbursts of the twinkling sky
smile with white fire,
and they singe their own vicinity,
burning for a thousand years.
We're tattered limbs
and vanquished hope
sinking gasping, grasping
each other with desperate hands.
And drowning.
We're drowning in mist,
unraveling into shreds.
Our satin blue eyes
are losing their fluorescence
fading into transparency.
Our stitches snip
and we're tearing down into ribbons,
our fragile bones
breaking into glass fragments.
We're scarring each other
with our broken edges.
And shattered.
We're lying shattered
on sunburnt snow,
lit on ice,
reflecting a frost
that reverberates us with frigidity
I refuse to seep through.
We're broken nuummite hands,
desperately trying to touch someone
with numb fingers.
And opaque.
We're opaque and slashed
with unknown colors.
We're almost alive in their hues.
We're ghosts lingering without eyes
because we lost our destination
in last millennium's landslide.
And crying.
We're crying with tears
that seem so much like anguish.
We're blasting through emptiness,
dropping upon nightmares.
Losing the light in an indestructible tornado.
And torn.
We're torn with ripped capillaries,
with dead stars sewed into my lungs
and they're full of ash
and I swear,
I swear I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.  
I don't know about you
but you seem so much like lifeless.
A lost piece of you
sunk to the bottom
and buried in dust,
a lost piece that was your heart.
And how could you be alive
without a heart?
I wonder if I'm scattered
across this ocean floor
seeing you through fissured irises,
A distorted ray of sunlight
I can no longer touch.
A numb frame I can no longer
call my own.
I'm no longer alive.

This life is all greed,
hatred, anguish, joy,
betrayal, hope, hurt,
loss, deaths, failures,
luxury, pain, happiness,
melancholy, helplessness,
habits, hobbies
and a curse called love.
It's called love
because they named it wrong.
We're cocooned in paper thin walls,
tearing through
and ripping them apart
and stitching them again
when they see our dark sides.
We're sunburned
and blue-veined,
and the recrudescence
of these scars spills
nothing but blood —
frozen blood
breaking into incandescent shards.
And we're bleeding,
we're bleeding with tears
and we're bleeding with screams
and we're a destruction
destroying others
and destroying ourselves.
We're a wave of hate
swallowing those
with a difference.
Gray haired people
tell us we're too young
to know the world,
but they won't ever see
the rivers like we do.
They tell us
the sky is colored blue
but our wild imaginations wonder
if sky could be pink and green,
and it is.
Where we shattered,
the pieces are still lying there.
Someone else picks them up
and solves the puzzle we are.
Some breathe
with broken hearts
and some walk
without leaving footsteps.
We are so different,
all of us,
looking back again and again
and again
and hoping again,
and we wonder all the time,
what I would be like to exist
in a different place.
Somewhere far away
from this present
spreading darkness
until we're blind —
so blind that we forget
what light feels like.
In the end though we'll
know we're fallen.
We're fallen faiths
and fallen dreams.
We've fallen into a phoenix called life.
We're different.
Maybe it's time we accept.