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Sep 15
Holding my hands out as you split my wrists again
Bending my fingers back, I’ll breathe again when I hear them pop

Holding handfuls of glass as it shatters, smaller and smaller.
Sinking into my skid.

How comforting your lies feel.
How cold your love feels.

Dancing around the noose, walking our little circles.
Just kick the stool out, I deserve that.

Maybe the audience will find some solace in the way my eyes fade, maybe they’ll have some pity as my body flails.

Maybe the circles will get tight enough to suffocate me.
Maybe I’ll find the thing that you couldn’t give me,
Floating mere feet from the ground
Written by
Dead  22/M/R’yleh
(22/M/R’yleh)   
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