I saw you from the bottom of the stairs before you knew I was coming
And though nervous and scared, I lingered on
I heard most things break by the ends of these types of nights
So I'll force upon every word I’ve brushed up on
Since knowing we wont speak like this again

You got a certain who knows what about you
And I got a small amount of time
To figure out what it is exactly and to whom does it apply,
But I know for a fact that these are broken nights,
Covered in bottles with the stench of a loss of life,
And I know that it's quite heartbreaking we won't speak like this again

I was made in Satan's image
Lucifer gave me eyes of green
I was birthed in a boiling ***
in some blackened tar pit scene

I was given claws engraven
and placed into a grey stone bed
and sometimes when bear my soul
my pearly white skin blazes red

I was crafted with Beelzebub's birthstone
and blessed with a poisoned mouth
but I was told to keep it shut
or Satan says he'll drag me south

I was made in Satan's image
but for once I long to be pure as snow
but Satan tells me I'm a demon
and I'll never go where angels go

I wish I could hold him
without wanting to cry
and accept a compliment
without hearing a lie
I wish I could be with him
without fearing what I'd do
when I became another sad girl
who didn't know the truth
I wish I could kiss him
and give him what he needs
and tell him that my mind goes calm
when I hear him hum and breathe
I wish I wasn't so **** terrified
of feeling his love end
but most of all, I wish it started
before I drew the line at 'friend'

There are Amber's and Jade's and Ruby's and Scarlett's in this world
Their spectrum of colours and beauty excel the grey in my heart
I was born in the dust and dirt and I'll die in it
I am not a jewel exposed, like them.

The easiest person to hate is yourself. To loathe yourself in your head. Who is going to disagree with you? Certainly not you. You hate yourself too.

Love makes you do really stupid things. Love makes you go to the florist to buy a dozen red roses when you have hay fever. Love makes you stay in the cinema watching the film when you feel like your bladder is going to explode, only because her head is on your shoulder and she looks so **** beautiful. Love makes you half an hour late for work in the morning and in trouble with your company because you had to kiss him goodbye five more times. Love makes you buy houses you can't afford and do jobs you don't really like, just so they can have a good life. Love is stupid and I don't know why people do it. I don't know why I do it.

Midnight makes for musings
far more richer than the day
and when the day moves in
I beg for solemn sleep again
The kind of sweeter slumber
which rises, falls and greets
the comfort in the silence
and the tenderness of sleep

I know you have a heavy heart, I can feel it when we kiss
so many girls stronger than me, have thrown their backs out
trying to lift it
but me, I'm not a gamble
you can count on me to split
the love I sell you in the evening, by the morning won't exist

And I'm not sure what the trouble was, that started all of this
The reasons all have run away, but the feeling never did
It's not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live
Cause what is simple in the moonlight, by the morning never is
What's so simple in the moonlight, now is so complicated

Wrap you in the hands of a willow tree
bathe you in the salts of the coldest sea
take this piece of gold
marry me

You will have commitment
I will hold your bones with me
I will make a pact to thee
steal the stars for you to see
in your lonely slumber
marry me

Paint with the dust of the crescent moon
dance in the sun in the days of June
sleep in the peace of a winter noon
lose your mind
and marry me

I want to wake up every day in your apricot paradise
sunrise slowly over your eyes
A cosmic lullaby descends over my darkness
Steals away all my melancholy sadness
And upon morning, all I see is you.

I don't need a dream to chase
When you are walking with me
Your love sprinkles sugar into my eyes
And I am blind with strange emotion for thee
My chimera
My only love.
I don't need a dream to chase
When you are walking with me

they are not offensive, nor are they breaching any rules or guidelines...:(

He was a river
he was my river
he was the depth of the sea and the beauty of the coral ocean
he was one who ran free
free, free and polluted was he
a shivering wreck drowning in the water
but he was my river
my raindrop
my globe
and he was clear enough for me

I have no tools
where are my tools
I need them now

But now I remember
I threw them away last month
when I told myself I didn't need them anymore
when I said to myself that it didn't matter anymore
that the white lines that lie on my hips and drew blood when I opened them
didn't matter
anymore

But they do
they matter now
and I need my tools back
I need my hand shaking when I flip open the sharp end
I need the colour red to neutralize the blue in my eyes
I need them back again
more than I did last month

Our bodies are neutral
fake passion
faded hearts
I'm tired and lonely
you're just tired

I stood in the dark
I heard the wind roar
I noticed it scraping my cheek
I felt the rain on my skin
I shivered in the cold
I strained to see the stars
I strained to see light
I wondered for the purpose of night
I longed for the day again

I squinted my eyes against the turbulence of the air
I felt alone in the shiver
But after long in the darkness
I began to feel peace
solitude
atonement

I saw the first glimpse of day
the sun on the horizon
the first bird that breaks the tranquillity
the first rush of mornings
the fear of being late
the cry of the first newborn, awake at last
the roar of a car

And I realised
the silence of night, isn't so bad after all

Stretch the blue veins that frame the lithe skin under my eyes
I can't stand them anymore

'' I am tired, I am weary, I could sleep for a thousand years ''

Oh how true that is
but I mustn't
all these thoughts circle and spin around the curves and the fleshy bulbs of my brain

Honestly
it's a ****** miracle
I'm not already insane.

I am nothing
more than damp
dewing the mould of your mind
nothing
more than an extra vessel
trying to keep your heart awake
trying to keep the blood inside you
nothing more than a crimson clot
pale cloth
watching the poppies grow up, and off
I am nothing
more than leaves in autumn
before you digress
and I fall
forgotten

You in arcane darkness
Garnet eyes like veils
Those eyes
They see too much
They see too much

What neurologic chaos lies
beyond those eyes?
Ten thousand tongues
do seek to know
But I know
You know too much
You know too much

I'm just sad, that's all
too sad to fall
asleep at night
to take a flight
to see a dream
my sadness seems
the pinnacle of my
unmade bed
my restless head
when all is said
and all is done
perhaps I'll run
away again
back to my sleepless sorrow
until tomorrow
my old friend

You get out and play with your paper dolls
their lissom limbs float and shake
you love the way they look at you
you think it's love but it's lustrous and fake

You cut a new doll every day
and carefully rip all their pieces away
you string them together and colour them in
and all of your dolls are flimsy and thin

Go ahead and play with your paper dolls
their paper hearts will soon unfurl
their whitened hearts will burn at will
their fleeting parchment creases and curls

And here I am with my wooden heart
rigid and rotting and swelling from the start
and growing like trees inside my carcass
while you burn your paper dolls with hands so heartless

Peace for Christmas
is what I want the most
there are plenty of glasses around here to toast
make wishes for love and light in your life
peace is what I believe Christmas defines

Forget your religion, it matters for nothing
I want to make my Christmas wish matter for something

So whether Christian, Muslim, Buddhist or Sikh
Jewish, atheist, Pagan, Hindu or simply unique
let peace be the binding factor that we humans all seek
for we are all one skeleton, with the potential for peace

I never liked crazy hair
before you
and I never liked those gothic trouser chains
that you wear so well
And now I love every pimple on your face
every crack in your voice
every string you break on your old guitar
and everything in between

I hope one day you'll love the gap in my teeth
my crooked nose
my manic laugh
and the lumps in my flesh
every inch of me
the way I love you

I will become a Polly Jean
I will start throwing kerosene
and living in a dream

I'll grow my hair to twice my size
and keep journals and fantasize
(oh when oh when will I leave my town
when will I wear the gypsy crown?)

I want to get out in a vagabond cart
and transform my life into incarnate art
and fall in love twice with the same man
because he is the only person I can truly understand

Yes, I will become you, Polly Jean
I will be the next bohemian beauty queen
I will rip out my eyes and replace them with jewels
and make the world an offer
it simply cannot refuse

I'll make my bed fifty feet under the stars
and surround myself with broken people
playing on broken guitars
I will never look back again
I will spend my whole life wandering

I'll paint my face different every day
and discover new ways to take the pain away
in some papers or a needle or a pile of ashes
Polly Jean, I can't wait to see it as it crashes

Polly, I will paint you
like you are painted in my heart
Polly Jean, infinite
and never-ending art

I would say my wrists bled
garnet
scarlet
like something
imperial and pure

But all I saw was dirt
and poppy stained tissues
and razor blades all over the floor

The circular confectionery tin has been there every Christmas
often replaced, often changed for a different brand
either way
every year we curse our brains and slap our wrists
for the temptation which overwhelms us
and our carefree nature, wholeheartedly encouraged by our family
''Go on, it's Christmas.''

And so, which one do we select?
of course, the one we like the most
the one with the prettiest wrapper
or the smoothest taste
the one we laugh, bewildered at others for not liking

Sneaking downstairs at night to grab a handful of our favourite flavour
to make sure nobody else can have your preference
until
eventually
all of your favourites are gone
so you settle for the ones you like, but would never choose originally
these are the second best chocolates
they have a mediocre wrapper and a pleasant taste
but they are nothing compared to the ones you would always choose

But now, you've had all of these as well
and you stare into the near-empty tin, rattling with the dull sound of the unwanted chocolates
for a moment you contemplate why anybody would eat those ones first
the colours are mundane and the taste is far from favourable

until somebody else walks past
and they peer into the tin
a hint of pleasant surprise sounds from their lips
''Oh, my favourite.''
And they select the 'dullest' chocolate left in the tin
because the faded purple is their favourite colour
and the sharp taste of orange lacquer is their favourite taste
and they wonder why you ate all the caramel chocolates first
because they would have left them until last

And now the tin is empty
every chocolate loved
by a different person
with a different taste
and when you think about what you truly love
you finally understand

It's okay if you hate me
I'd hate me too
but even if you killed me
I'd still like you

Remember, remember
the fourth of May
when what felt like a year
only lasted a day
when the smoke and the honesty
tickled my neck
all the song in your laughter
I'll never forget

Remember embraces,
pacing the floor
'I love you too' before closing the door
knowing the world would all be put right
because we were both feeling together that night

Remember kisses at 3 in the morning
and the tightest of hugs through the loudest of yawning
feeling I'd hate to be anywhere else
than there
in the dark
just you and myself

Remember, remember
and don't forget me
when you're out in the world and there's so much to see
but remember that what you were seeing that day
was someone that said
it would all be okay

She's perfect
she's flawless
she radiates light
she's faultless
she's matchless
she's purified sight
unmatched beauty
and a conscience so clear
why would heaven have a place for her here?

Earth is like heaven where she will rot and dwell
*an angel like her is destined for hell.