By my hand, the burning ends of cigarettes kiss, glowing red hot for a second and gone the next.
I do this because tonight, I am out of light
And I am drowning in the horrifying problems of the middle class.
The smoke dancing in my fingers
Reminds me of the lady tonight.
The lady of all my nights.
O, sweet moon passing overhead
Grant sleep upon this your weary child.
Pray I do not seek the comfort of violence
For there are people sleeping.
Sometimes the unlikely happens,
When we lose people not to other people
But to places and time.
For them to go
Where you cannot ultimately follow
Is the greatest wound in the heart.
And tonight my heart bleeds profusely so
For fear she will not take me with her.
I am left alone again
Perhaps I've been all along.
I hope this time that god proves me wrong.
I have never wished for an error before
More than I do now.
I sit here now, communing with my gods
Facing the dim yellow light
Digging damage into my eyes ever so slowly.
I hear drones coming from a fan behind me
Blowing hot wind on my back, 11:50 in the evening.
The night is **** warm and every time I turn away, I see in my peripheral vision a black figure with round eyes slightly raising its head, taking a peek behind a gate outside my door.
And there are ghosts in the darkness the dim light cannot pierce.
I widen my eyes but I cannot see, yet I can tell they are looking back.
What a depressive bunch.
They sigh in the dark and I raise my drink to all that are dead.
How come this night is so long?
One day I came back to visit the town I grew up in
Far up here in the north.
And while every thing kind of remained the same
Somehow it was all different.
The public cemetery, with its gloomy skin and silent eyes seem to be a lot more crowded.
The roads leading to places lost in moss covered paths seem shorter.
The cafes I used to sit idle in, are now run down and closed.
Yet they were still them
The eyes, the skins, the roads and the gloomy skies.
And I was still me
The familiar outsider.
Before I left the cemetery, I kissed my sister’s niche goodbye
And left a prayer for all the dead below.
Unfrequented and alone.
She was tender, oh so tender.
She would have the shakes in her legs whenever I stuck my fingers in between.
And she would sigh a trembling sigh and her legs would freeze and she would say
I cant stand up anymore
Better to just spread she thinks.
And spread she does slowly
Ashamed of the flower between her thighs, wet like orchids in the rain.
And I am the coming storm.
Cruel in nature.
I deny myself nothing.
I plunge my **** straight inside her.
No gentle strokes.
Only a wrathful stabbing.
How easily a silk tears.
Do we punish ourselves accordingly
When the punishment eludes us?
Most likely no.
We wander this world
Like living dead.
To be laid to rest.
Today I have a leg wound, came from a dog.
It was a tiny little spitz, cream fur pointy ears and all that.
Its fangs striked fast like a bullet grazing through my leg.
It left a minute but pretty deep hole in there, sunk to my right leg its fangs did.
I dressed it and prayed that death do not visit me or this dog anytime soon.
I miss my girl. I’ll see her this coming weekend. I just turned 22.
I cant wait to turn 23.