Cold steel chains
Constricting pain
Burning sensations
Sanity slain

Heavy weight
Against my skin
Unforgiving
Relentless head-spin

Dry bloodstains
A malicious mark
Guilty as charged
*Repeat, restart

An anxiety attack holds the body pressed against a table, unable to even struggle as the ropes pull and fold the layers of your mind like a peeling lable

Cloth begins to cover the exposed skin, over a layer of sweat that starts soaking in, panicked and encased in claustrophobia with weaning breaths that sound out a hallowed hymn

Skin pulled tight along the muscles, layers ripping across the joints like papyrus separating blood vessels, body pressed so tight that straight knees crack with the buckles

Unable to evade the stout flame hooking into the small of your back flaring up to the ceiling charring the body black, its a panic attack that has you trapped

Mummified and cremated without a hope of escape while motivation lays in ashes around the structure left behind in the agony of a triggered perception

All without the grace of an execution outside of this institution, locked away from happy thoughts and depression, the trauma stops only when it waits to feed on the negative pollution.

Creatures crawl from under the roots of trees and bugs scatter from the pockets of the lost to the cadence of sprinkling rain

Silence in the woods of missused life brings out the sounds of wind screaming past the tightened ropes and rusted knives

Those who walk through the aokigahara forest hear a symphony of life that persists through the maimed, a festival of tents and people strung up like decorations as if it was meant for a parade

Nature reclaimed the unused death of unwanted bodies and the rain drained flesh from bones, simulated hell and suicide is what's found soon after passing the warning signs in red and white marked zones.

Always..
it's always going to be my fault

No matter what you did or what you said
it will be my fault

Even the lies you tell
will be my fault

The love you gave and the love you lost
will be my fault

The pain you feel and the tears you shed
will be my fault

The agony and the injustice of it all
will be my fault

And the punches I took and the bitter words you spat
will be my fault

The obsessive
possessive
jealous
rage
you poured upon me
will be my fault

The others you slept with and threw in my face
will be my fault

The secret child you made
will be my fault

and so I left you

that will not be my fault

that would be yours.

There's a woman whose invisible when I'm awake, she's just a dream of who I chased in life, who's shoulders carried such weight that each step caused a quake, a force of nature is what she is, a new universe, somthing she's ready to charge out and take.

A dream in the night

She's a vision of both light and dark in place where they medley between dimensions, she's the type that always runs away from her family's predictions and has no time for her own admitions, the kind to stay calm when the wind picks up, without a care of the world's intentions, she brings out her poetry book and writes down all her ambitions.

A fire so bright

She has dreams of touching the stars no matter how hot they'd turn out to be, she'd welcome the black fingers and charred palms so long as there's a new horizon to see, new lands to brave, focus frontal and astral dust in her tracks as she speeds across nations and over every sea, never to live a relapse.

A drug without addiction

No dreams of being a cover girl, she enjoys the dirt on her hands and laughter in the air while dancing on expectations of failed people who couldn't bare to dance with someone who just wasn't afraid of the stares, she just brushes it off like autumn leaves in her hair.

A life without conviction

Strong enough to take on a giant but brittle to the touch, she refused help every turn of the way and chose to take the punch, stubborn and reliable, someone who gives all they can even when it ain't much.
 
Always so strong

She's a dark light in the golden sun with her Auburn hair, pale complexion, and emerald eyes, she's a bright dream in the moonlight with her ruby lips, colorful songs, and complex inquiries into maybes, hows, and whys.

I never thought you could be gone

Everyone has an end like the weaning breath of a dieing dream but no one would have thought a dream would end its self.

Always so wrong

A perfect funeral for an almost perfect person, perfect sounds to describe an almost perfect memory, your smell on my jacket brings the end to an almost perfect day.

A conclusion to your favorite song

You taught the world the meaning of saying goodnight and taught me the meaning of waking up to say, come whatever may, no matter how wrong or right.

Captured as a slave to the Moon from underneath the canapés, this nights pain has no ease while drums thump as fast as heart beats.

Dragged through massive gates and drudged through a city of mud, tearing apart from the inside without knowledge of which God we should hate for our blood.

Stripped and painted with dirt while we're led up the structure where we know we'll be hurt, kept in line as not to disturb the stream of blood from bodies which it spurts.

Bodies tumble down to the cadence of stomping crowds and fire flares to the sounds amping cheers.

Broken bodies are fed to the snearing hounds once darkness begins to blanket this city and its crown.

This place is their temple and these stairs lead to our sacrifice on top of an alter, a tragedy of buckling knees and malice in the form of a knife that will strike without falter.

Under this Blood Moon our lives are sealed while our people are killed, this night has no light for the weak or strong willed, the only solace is that they may yet drown in all the blood that has been spilled.