To be at the highest pinnacle,
mount on the pyramids of desolation,
seek for sunlight until it burns you,
reach for clouds, until the storm comes.

To be the royalty of your universe,
embrace death like a ghostly friend,
provide a funeral for your own end,
put six feet under, the afterlife of your qualms.

To break away from dishonor,
cage the angels within your borderlands,
free the demon inside your core,
let them out, let them die.

When I die, just let my body rot.
So every gust of air on the summer-tide
will hoist me to your presence, bit by bit,
— until with every breath, you’ll memorize me.

When the first light looms without me on your bed,
read my letters out loud…in an over-romantic voice,
— for those words I’ve written will whisper my promises,
and you’ll never hear yourself laughing...again.

But when my heart does not cease from beating,
or if the golden gates of heaven shut before me,
— do not rejoice.
For I will **** myself yet again (even for a thousand times),
just for you to know my worth.