One thing I don't understand is the rush to be the best,
When in fifty odd years you will die,
And all that hard work gone down the drain,
What I don't understand is why we ignore death,
Until it is standing on our doorstep,
We live to die,
We die to perhaps live again,
But if this was true then we are an unstoppable cycle,
Bored of our own existence,
Until we ruin what we have,
And there's nothing more,
But oblivion.

In the dark I dine alone with only my demons to keep me safe. Safe, safety from what? From whom? From you? I like to pretend you’re dead, a slashed throat, a necklace of rope. I know it’s a sin to think this way but what’s life without a splash of red?
In the dark I cry alone with only my demons to keep me warm. Warm, warmth a sensation my body becomes numb to around you. Some times I wonder, wonder what keeps you so cold? Whom keeps you cold? Is it me… my love?
In the dark I dine alone with only my demons to save me. Saving me from what? From whom? From you? I like to imagine I’m dining on your flesh , your blood in my goblet and dripping down my walls. I know it’s a sin to imagine such a thing but life is art and I simply chose a different medium.
In the dark I sing alone with only my demons to keep me on track. On track, what track? Which way? It’s coming, closer, closer, closer I can hear it now screeching in my ear waiting for the impact I close my eyes.
And silence.
Sometimes I like to imagine you could had saved me but that’s not how life, how love works. Or used to work, how would I know what it is like now?

Hold me close dear whilst I cry. Hold me close my love whilst I die. Hold me and watch, watch me fade into nothing, a flower wilting and soul not worth saving. I’ve watched the inevitable, leaving, giving up. On me, on you, on us. Hold me as I bleed, it dripping down my arm. Hold me darling as I choke on your sweet hatred.
When you hold me close I wonder, wonder what how I’ve done this to you. I’m not good enough for you, I’ll turn you into me, emotionless, hateful and spiteful. I never wanted this for you so I’ll cry, I’ll die I’ll say good bye.
Will you hold me dear when I’m dead in your arms. My cold body pressed against your  warm body, lifeless. Will you cry over me? Dead in your arms. I guess you wouldn’t. You see, my dear, I told you I wasn’t worth it. I told you what a waste I was, I am. A waste is what I am.
Eventually, one day, we will be old and we will die. Together I hope, life has never been on my side though. When you die, when you leave me, when you move on without me I will cry, I will die, I will mourn the love I wish I still had.
I don’t know, I don’t know when, I don’t know how but here is my suicide note.

Will you, will you love me still? When I’m no longer young and my hair will start to fade. Will you, will you my dear continue to love me through thick and thin? When I’m crying over you.
Come sit by me darling and we’ll wish away the pain; still it’ll come creeping, creeping. Soon you’ll no longer recognise me my love. Before your eyes I’ll turn into your worst nightmare. Fading, fading away.
Will you sing to me sweetheart? Sing me to sleep drifting, drifting off to a better land. Didn’t you hear? I’m lost. Lost in your eyes. Lost in your touch. Lost in your voice. It’s too late for me please save, save yourself.
Come wrap me up in black silk and I’ll pretend, pretend I’m dead. With pain comes death and with death comes madness, maddening over you. I fear, my dear, I’m losing it. Have you, have you seen my soul?
Will you hold me together darling? When my bones stick out. Will you still love me? When I become what you hate, hatred burning through your heart. Whilst I watch. Watching and crying over you.
Now I no longer cry, cry over you. For, my lover, there’s no point anymore. You’re writing love letters to the dead.

Black ribbon round my arms, round my waist. Tying me together, making lose ends meet. Black ribbon round my legs, round my eyes. Preventing me from the inevitable. Black ribbon round my neck, round my neck. Breaking my bones, breaking me.
Black satin hiding me, hiding you from what we want to see. Black satin protecting me, preventing you but do you really see? Black satin ripping, ripping in half, tearing, crying, trying to become whole again.
Black smudges, down my face, across my fingers. This is reality. Black smudges hide the red, hide the pain, hide the dark. Black smudges from leftover paint, painting a personality.
Black clothes mourning, mourning the deceased. A sea of black, a splash of white. A glimpse of hope. Mothers tell their monsters hope is all you need but who will see a flicker in the dark. A glimpse of hope.
There’s no hope for me but pure ironic Joy.

~ a.k