an eternal walk is what i'd call it:
oblivion,

much like my current standing.

i step blindly, not sure of where i'm going:
who to love, who to trust.

there's nothing i can do but keep on going,
because if i were to stop, i would shame those who came before me.

pity the living.

oblivion is what i was given,
i'm not sure if i can take the split

so i'll take the iron stake,
and see what i can make of it

i swear i can feel your glacial, sticky breath cling to my soul,
and as every second goes by, i find myself wishing to be completely frozen:

a ****** statue of ice.

there are times when i wish to take your own scythe-
reap the light's end,
but sadly, every attempt's pretend.

i can't quite bring to mind on what keeps me here..
what keeps me alive?

it is obvious i am not for this life...
i feel you with every toe and step.
would it be any different if i am dead?

i already feel like a corpse walking.

what keeps my heart starting when it needs to be stopping?

sweet sucker of crushing cruelty,
dripping my sanity to the very last bit.

you come and go as you please,
leaving destruction in your path
in the form of poetry.

i cry at the fires you set,
and rebuild myself again;
***** myself with a pen,
and start, begin to end.

i'm running out of arteries to slice,
not having you puts my thoughts on ice.

i'd like to think you keep me from
burning the whole world down,

that sweet, sweet song
brighter than the mountain's sound.

mother of mine, crashing,
sea foam lady of veins and black-blue,

with the waters of healing and pain.

how is it that you bear the power to mend and rend?

some sort of demon is what you are...
a twisted form of lucifer.
that type of being that can nurture and attack all
at once.

and as if only you held the sky, you blame me.

when it is you who tosses and turns the unforgiving tides of your terrible sea.