gloom looks so good on you
we're doomed. theres no room for two.
a stagnent game of islolation
ironic, chronic concentration

on rainy days
wet shadows play
the melancholy dries away
caught between a dying sun, a loaded gun, the ides of May.

******, ****** desolation
injected with the sweet sensation
in loving hate, you despise creation
we are deep. unconscious. animations.

i like, i hate, i love, i loath
schizophrenic panic mode
like me, hate me, love me cold.
i watch the stars

and stars implode.