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Feb 2015
Dear Death,

Stop calling me.
I gave you multiple chances, and there's a time when we must realize that something is unhealthy for us, so that we can cut it out of our lives.
I am sorry.
Maybe under the right circumstances I could have loved you forever.
But those circumstances are not ours.
Rotten luck.

Have a nice lif- err, have a nice day.

Your (Former) Love Interest have nothing left to say, don't say anything else don't say that there's nothing left to say even, don't even think about the creeping corners of memory storage in which there might be a few grains of substance at the bottom of a seemingly empty box. There is nothing left to say. And you know it. So don't.

Nothing never nover nether 'mother netting noting nothing.

******* lamps. Not a great hobby.

Shadow shanty.

Singing a song of the Sea.
Wringing the throngs of the clergy.
Stinging the Dongs of the ******
Clinging to poems of the clergymen.

Shadow shanty.

I tried to take a look in the direction of the sun. And what I got was a whole face full of God's good redemption. So I clambered on until I found the dirt, and I dug straight down into the earth until I hit rock. And I smashed my head on that rock until I could hear again. And I listened my way out of the hole that I dug when I decided to hold on for one more second when I didn't really feel like holding on. When I waited around to be changed instead of changing. And when I was holding on for just one more second because I felt if I didn't hold on I would just hang up. And my whole theme song is just elevator music, we're going up and up and up and the air pressure's decreasing the ringing in my ears can't wait for it to just POP and clear and let me out of here, cuz the hole that I dug was a million stories deep, and I've not even told a fraction of them yet.
Which is why I remain.

In the light, nothing can be wrong or right.
In the light, I can makeup for deafness with sight.
In the long light of the day I can withhold many words.
In the longest nights, I can free myself. Finally.

Shade Chant

It's comfortable here. Let me never leave.
It's comfortable here. Let me never leave.
It's mighty nice here. OH please, oh please.
Please never let me be free.

It's time to dig my final grave.
It's time to dig the final grave.
It's time to dig that final grave.
That final grave into the sky.

My soul I send, into the waves.
My soul I send, into the waves.
My soul I send, all into the waves.
Goodbye soul I don't need ya no more.

Shade Chant. A ***** spiritual. From the black, black heart. Of a white supremacist.

This week I will bury you.
I will never see you again.
You will never help me through.
Never push me past fear.
Never guide me to love myself again.
Never remind me of the innocence I never lost.
I will bury you this week.
And it won't be me.
I'll watch it happen from above in the trees.
As I bury my sense of self alongside.
I will bury you.
Since you dug me out of the grave.
Orion Schwalm
Written by
Orion Schwalm  26/Nevada City, CA
(26/Nevada City, CA)   
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