when you see these beautiful tragedies
and you can watch as the cannabalise
on the souls of the minds of our dreams
full of nothing but blood lust and greed
and as it creeps into your life
in the slow transport of demise
if you stop halting time and holding breath
if you just look and breathe it in and let run away with you
the beauty can **** you so slowly that the agony
the agony is a sick pleasure
when the rise and fall of your chest
feels less than endless
when the nearness of end is so blue
it fills your bones with a fire
the fire you searched to set a light through your whole youth
words scraping at the roof of your mouth
"Let me out! Let me out!"
loud enough, they cannot scream
saying things in your mind
things you wish they could hear
things that might fill them with fear
and the way you put it all together
isn't the way it was supposed to fit
and everything you’ve done
and eveything that has been done
is projected on your thoughts of you
what you were at the start is never anything of matter
your middle and end are never like the start
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 12:52 PM UTC
when you see these beautiful tragedies
and you can watch as the cannabalise
on the souls of the minds of our dreams
full of nothing but blood lust and greed
and as it creeps into your life
in the slow transport of demise
if you stop halting time and holding breath
if you just look and breathe it in and let run away with you
the beauty can **** you so slowly that the agony
the agony is a sick pleasure
when the rise and fall of your chest
feels less than endless
when the nearness of end is so blue
it fills your bones with a fire
the fire you searched to set a light through your whole youth
words scraping at the roof of your mouth
"Let me out! Let me out!"
loud enough, they cannot scream
saying things in your mind
things you wish they could hear
things that might fill them with fear
and the way you put it all together
isn't the way it was supposed to fit
and everything you’ve done
and eveything that has been done
is projected on your thoughts of you
what you were at the start is never anything of matter
your middle and end are never like the start
This was written on January 30th, 2011