15-10-19
I want you to read this.
Know that I'm a psychopath.
It would be easier if you hated me for creeping up your neck.
For holding a snare around your ankle.

For being obsessed and inhuman.

If I'm not human. If I'm not real. I cannot be hurt.
And since your opinion matters the most in this hour, tell me I'm surreal. So I can surrender.

~

Barefoot.  
Floor.
I wish you could see me now.
Slowly moving my body to his lyrics.
"Oh mother I can feel.."*

Breath in my mouth so I won't die.
If that lust is too mad.
Then bury my flesh and mind among the soaked leaves.
As long as your skin grab my limbs, I'm fine.

'Cause ***** words
                    nasty and ****** words
                                                 are the cleanest of expressions.
        
                 For they have the ingredient of naked truth.

I to want to write remarkable words
In a language that I all my life have not heard

"Tomorrow you will be alright"
I comforted myself a near midnight.
Dragging the towel, moist from the sink
under my lower lids, I did never blink.

Makeup and water or makeup and tears
some may never now, as I
that lonesome, quite autumn night*
Though I lastly found with my poorly sight
that under my lids there were, well how to describe?
- I lowered the towel and looked even twice
Nothing as makeup were pouring down my eyes
but a still, matte
constant.


Sorrow

Now what about tomorrow?
I blinked and I shrank as I lowered my head in the sink.
Oh but never were I capable of washing off ink.

A lonesome quiet autumn night
With my twitching, pouring sight

Some just might, hold one tight
As lonesome as this quiet autumn night

With self-devouring, melancholy
I as many, you as few
We'll be alright in this chilly, jolly
quiet, moony midnight dew