I write, but it all seems pointless
Disjointed,
Useless, and Dejected.

This way of expression I created
Has seemed to still and stopper
A Goner.

Done for. Finished.
I used to relish the kiss of
inspiration and entanglement
into something that seemed purer
than myself

Now, my words dust on a shelf
Inspiration strikes and snaps;
disjointed and useless.

Sapped.
I find myself writing for a voice
, and musical ability, which
I do not possess

I pray I will be able to pick up a pen soon
And write away this uselessness.

is like ******, the agony ***** at its ****** time.

You were a sweet dead red head
A dream I made up to hide myself
A hope I harbored inside myself
The queen fairy of never was
Safer because you never could have been

Held up by crimson silk strings
Hair tied and dried up but still fluttering
Admirers still gawking and shuddering
At this beautifully dead thing

At night I made up stories
Safe fairytales were I could tell you
How much I loved you
A vessel for all of my hopes

But I threw away those dark dreams
All those horrible but loved things
Must go so they can’t grow anymore
Even though the casket caught I still had to close Pandora’s box

I buried you in my memory to become
And empty dream my dead fairy queen
I never knew you nor will I ever
Perhaps this loss is for the better

But sometime when I sleep
Your specter makes me weep
For all that lost potential

Love is Brutal.
Jealous eyes and gasping heart
anticipate downfall to start
backing out now would be smart;
avoid impending pain.

Love is Futile.
oversold and overrated
embers destined to go faded
ecstacy is surely fated
to become disdain.

Love Proves Fatal.
short of breath, I can't stop bleeding
what once was yours, no longer beating
life is flickering and fleeting
down the bathtub drain.


Red is-
-Valentines and fire trucks; sunsets and war,
both sides of this razor and both people in this mirror.

-Roses and romance; my lips and my hair,
and my unhealed wounds inspired by and forever reminding me of
the intimacy that will never be. Again.

-Passion and ******; beauty and death,
and pain that surpasses the simple capacity of the nerve endings
in my tangible flesh.

-Love and hate.
The love I need from you, and the hate I reserve for myself, and all the blurred and liquid emotions that drip so delicately from Inside.

And the Lust I can't resist
And the regret that will persist
No matter how much thick, beautiful color
I wash over my wrist.


Autopsy

"This one is an interesting case," I addressed the group
As you see in the slide, she looks normal outside
But when the procedure got under way, we realized
Her affliction was unique.

We made the cranial incision, and pulled apart the skull.
We then noticed that the brain had been eaten away
By some degenerative disease.
It had devoured all but the brain stem, and looked as though
It had tortured her for years.
"It must have been terrible," one colleague observed, "having your mind
Rotting away every day from corroding memories and false hope."
"Yes," I confirmed, "this could be our cause of death."

Curiouser still, upon separating the ribs, we discovered that her chest cavity
Was lined with some sort of Tar-like Substance,
Mostly surrounding the Heart.
It was thick, cold, and black and it stuck to our gloves.
"It must have hurt." a doctor stated. "It looks as though she tried to scrape it off
With razorblades, or dissolve it with smiles or Love,
But it kept growing back."
"Yes," I concurred, "this is what might have killed her."

The strangest of all was found as we continued the Y downward.
Upon opening the abdomen, we were astonished to see that there was
Nothing inside.
She was completely empty.
Not a stomach, Kidney, spleen, friend, Soul or dream was found in that cavern
"It must have been hard," he whispered, "trying to go on when you're so empty inside."
"Yes," I said, "perhaps this is what made her die."

"And so," I told the students, "with all of her amassed ailments, I decided Jane Doe C33's
COD to be listed Unknown. We aren't quite sure what happened to her, or when it was contracted. All we know is that something awful usurped this girl's mind and body,
Taking from her until there was nothing left to hurt,
And she died."
"So log this one away in your notes, in the event this becomes an epidemic.
An interesting one, indeed …Now, on to the next case for study."

You know, I think I've known
For quite a while now.
The constant sneaking around,
The ******* up.
Oh, honey, you're not
As smooth as you thought.

No, you're not sly at all.
You don't think I've heard
You giggling and
Groaning at three in the morning?
You must mistake me
For a fool, dear.

And I guess that nothing
Feels as good as her skin
On your's, right? Her
Moans of ecstasy are music
To your filthy ears. You
Can't keep your stained hands off.

I'll pull the knife out of
My back and cut your heart
Out, because baby, all I
Wanted was your heart. I
Hope the blade feels like
Your frigid fingertips.

"How does that feel? "
Your body is covered in her
Sweat, your blood, my rage.
Oh, darling, have you ever
Felt anything like this before?
"Does that feel good, baby? "

Blood thirsty, love turned me
Into a psychopath. Let me tear
You apart, limb by limb,
Just like you've done to me.
Feel my pain;
Suffer like I have.

No, you did not just add salt to the wound.
You pried it open.

You are the wounds on my chest.


The cavernous lines like an inscription etched right beneath my heart.


Each mutilation a blood-stained stanza


of the song,


you know you composed.