Her tension, was palpable.

Tears drenched her face,

Like a waterfall that never knew end.

She picked herself up,

And swallowed herself whole.

Just like her namesake,

She shut herself off.

Fading back to her Wonderland.

We're decaying, defeated by promises and kisses long gone.

I don't know.

How lucky I have it.


Should I?


Thinking positive thoughts,

Thinking of positivity, without thought.


What will this hunger give way to?


Is this lubricant for the gears of future mechanical dice to roll?


I'm an empty box cut out of ash, of killer queens and suns long set.


I'll gather what I can.

Even burnt out, I am more than I was before.

You'd guessed right : we grew cold the longer we weren't in touch.

Our skin's set ablaze, childishly believing we were destined.


Who would've known, the difference between lust and love?


A gnawing ache either way.

Let's sing in tune one last time.

Let us be whoever we want to be.

If only to extend this wick which we keep burning through.

So, it's dark to you, huh.

Then take my hand and watch me slip under.

Let's drown everything in a shade of gray.


Whispering in monochrome, noir, dystopia, sepia.

I have been sleepless, admittedly.

The crawling chaos of unrest, unrestrained.

The mind, slithering out of view.

The heart, brittle and whole.

The bodies, sleeping in the loch.

Replace your breath with mine.

It's the last thing I want on my lips.

As rune carvings ran red,

And blood-red eyes began to clear.

Adrenaline entered half-life.

Ash fell from the skies once more.

Greeting the world in crow down.


"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

There's no small amount of desperation seeping out of the cracks.


The sickness within suppressed by sheer effort of will.


The left scars ache with the fires that locked away language of the body.


The right thing perhaps to do is leave.


But I don't want to break from your side,

And the ground screams goodbye.

"You just wanted to hear me scream, didn't you?"

chuckle
Darling, it's been so long since I heard you moan.

I'll just settle for your screams.

Now all the songs speak of your scratched out mosaic.

The crawling of memories bleeding out into the next pool of tears I create.


It feels like dying, just a hundred times more worse.


I have issues.

You issued my execution warrant by the end of our red strings.

Funny. I don't remember trafficking any drugs.

Unless the drug was the feeling of emasculation, disorientation, disrespect, sordid throwing of caution to the wind.

Then yes.

It's a marsh of filth you made me crawl in.

And you know I would do it all again in a heartbeat.


You're pointless.