Why do I still write about the pain of the blade when it hasn't kissed my hips for months
Why do I still write about you when you have not kissed my lips for even longer

Poison was the taste so wicked the pleasures shared my dear .
You were the best poison sampled  in a nocturnal desire all is dead .
Let the pain bring the  pleasures of guilt a tattered memory of my most wicked design.

When flesh is your vice will you not drown in the darkest waters as I have so easily drown within you.?

Her  love was a fix.
Her passion reeked of ****** and I fell victim as so many other's before.
**** me in pains plessure to erase my regrets she begged of me from the confines of a  already empty bed.

Nothing to fill the void.
May are darkness be shared my little girl .
Why can't you see the games never revolved around you but merely absorbed you as all the rest.

If only we understood the pains pleasure maybe as strangers we could **** as we do the ones best kept secret within hates plain sight.
I am the edge of the most evil design.
Poison your kiss and forever it lingers to this fool's thirst.

Have are  secrets simply grown into a existence all there own?
Carve are pleasures I see its passion deeply within your eyes
Tonight was a regret tomorrow a forgotten tune left to die as my soul apart.

Do we question are likes or simply take them as fools and allow them to fade?
My demon need's no slumber within my nightmares existence .
Sweetheart did you dig only to find a little fractured side of yourself?

Are lives are toxic I loved the pain you so easily did embrace as of leftover conquests sweat smells of truths we ourselves can no longer embrace .

The door is closed as the belt around your neck.
We together are poisons pleasure how tragic this night with others we did waste.

As misery always seems to embrace only regret.

Gaping valleys,
Asylum-colored.

Spaced enough to
Let daytime prevail
And to let horrors imagine themselves
In the black lung membrane
Of 3 a.m.

They told me nice guys finish last
It's must be true
Can't find the starting line to find my way to you
You dont seem to mind it's almost sick
I often wonder what makes you tic
Mind games like board games call it sorry
Apologizing but doing it anyway but are we?
Sorry...not sorry

I am adrift,
lost in a myriad of thoughts,
I have that wanderlust,
a case of the traveling,-bone.
I think I need a little bit a vino,
& a hunk of bread.
Perhaps, a walk
in the countryside
will do me some good.

So just for the hell of it,
I think I'll visit France,
that's where I'll go,
leave home for awhile,
get out of Dodge.

Yes, I think I'll visit France,
maybe I'll find
some good
old-fashioned romance, too.
Au revoir!