Flip flip
Sigh
Flip rustle
Smile                     Smile but trip
               And so goes the cycle
Stitch stitch           Heart thumping with crippling fear
         Stitch too your rotting wounds
Stitch keep on stitching    Fingers shaking
Go on                    Heart filling with thrill  Stitch come on     Fingers with their minds
                         Healer
                         Healed?

I wear polo shirts
to cover the hurt,
marks on the neck
from a night
where life was asking me
to settle the final check.

A gorgeous vine, stood before a man,
but this is not a flower, he murmured,
overworked for many hours,

He cursed, seething his suffocating dower,
at this plant that dared mock the flowers,
to its place he should return it,

His hateful heart sought to burn it where it stood,
but he understood, to truly wound is to leave a mark,
so he gnarled his face and gathered his phlegm,

spat,
down upon this comely green being that wasn't his friend,
and watched himself drip past the superimposed grin,

and in this plant that wasn't bleeding, he was brought chagrin,
and kicked,
and kicked it's leaves over,
and over,
again,

To the midnight,
and dusk,
this song, to sing and fall over, eternally once again,
the callous man's rage, the empty man's grin,

To that, a farewell.

Je me fonds en Elle
        que même lorsque les grillons cessent de chanter
        je me retrouve toujours allongé
        avec mes myriades de pensées
        à la contempler,

La nuit.

Et Vénus se marie avec mes yeux,
        reflète verte dans mes pupilles
Elle me dit de m’endormir mais,
        j’en suis incapable

Voilà des années que je la regarde sans jamais
        pouvoir la sentir
Et pourtant, elle mourra avec moi,

Breathing ragged, lungs burning
Palms sweaty, slipping, slipping
Eyes clouded with tears
I'm faced with my fears

The face in the mirror
Pale with pure horror
Hands gripping the sink
I can barely think

The calling of a blade–
Will it ever fade ?
I try to fight it, try–try–try
Yet the blade screams, die–die–die

Such a strong temptation
A path to damnation
I grip the sink tighter
My knuckles turning whiter

The blade keeps mocking
With its sardonic laughing
I sink to my knees
And whisper–please

Bone tired of fighting
Of always trying
I succumb to the gore
And hate myself even more

In this world,
out there in open,
many things appear to be broken.

In this world, when it’s the darkest,
I find myself restless and breathless,
running back to the nest,
never safe, but where it’s best.

In this world, if ever so bright,
let there be a ray of light,
a new life, a new sprout,
let it, oh please, be found.

A long-held dream
regrettably, it’s not all what it seems.

A promise made, a secret kept,
where silence is never to be seen again.

A reckless risk, a mighty wish,
blowing back and forth in a sweet breeze.

In this world, despair’s the ruler.
You’ll never hear of anything much crueler.

So here we are left,
There’s no one to blame,
nothing to tame,
it can’t be defeated,
it can’t be helped,
just another feature of a daily hell.

In this world, an old decree,
we’re all doomed to such degree,
beyond salvation,
without a nation.

In this world,
we are not who we are meant to be,
we die at the beginning,
we live at the end.

In this world,
the end’s the matter,
and no one cares about the means.

In this world, I cannot live.
For I’ve decided to end,
and I’ve refused to begin.