When the darkness spreads and the screaming penetrates even my dreams The seduction of empty space calls at me It’s attraction is undeniable My daydreaming naturally becoming more visual The flavour of death An ecstasy like no other My strongest and last ****** So many options but only one to be my sinful romance
Will it be: My tanned yellow appearance if I take too much The chalk outline if I take a nudge The rose stained bath if I dig a bit more My neck ornament when I hit the floor The gruesome distance a burst pipeline will go The sweating and shaking from a hypo Or simply a collision with a glare of light Or maybe the ground was never my right And I would prefer the pull from my lungs’ weight or the heat off my skin as it ablates
Or maybe you would prefer an accident Maybe that will help you cover your names Don’t worry I won’t leave a note I’ll let your guilt engross you And when it gets too much you can use your sorry excuses to help suit you You can blame my unstable personality My weak mental health My poverty of speech But at least you’ll think twice the next time you speak This will be my sweet everlasting revenge
However for now my battle isn’t over. I just refuse to be taken to the enemy side. I would rather stab myself with own spear than have my soul be tainted.
When It’s do or die, I feel electrified - Autumn Kings: Electrified
It usually starts like this My heart beats loud and angry cracking my bones crushing my chest My breath escapes me empties my lungs as if i have run My mind creates a thought a terrible thought then exchanges it for another and another and another moving too fast making it hard to follow the line of thought that causes my lips to bleed from where my teeth bite them and to others i look calm barely pensive maybe stressing but my body is still like rock and hot like fever it can't catch up with my thoughts and the voices in my head i didn't do enough i didn't stop it i didn't care enough why didn't i drop it it should be me suffering not you suffocating in cluttering feelings and conversation smothering everything you are
And then I hear you and You are fine just too busy to answer my calls So it falls My chest from where it was tensing And I breath
I could never let you know this feeling, the guilt would eat your heart out
Referees mismanage oversight incorrect calls lower credibility faith in justice dissolves into the ice agency is taken into padded hands vigilantes slash and spear.
Hip check leads to cross check leads to fist check malignant hostility boils over leather armor is removed interphalangeal joints meet mandible type O negative paints a jersey haymakers take bizarre trajectories to avoid helmets and visors the face is homebase to ingrain pain.
Violence subverts gamesmanship players must be taken off ice to be put on ice otherwise brawls become overabundant and destroy the integrity of the sport yet each transfer of agony is euphorically satisfying —considering the context— so fist fairs continue for the foreseeable future we organize an impenetrable perimeter once we've acclimated to penalty kills.
You are a bullet, harmless, fascinating, daunting - when unprovoked and on your own. Except maybe a choking hazard. Nice to touch and feel on my skin, but cold.
Give you power, or a gun, your aim is never accurate but deadly all the same.
I can replay it - you charging at the TV with incredible speed - in slow motion. The sound that followed was deafening. It was an ear ringing, catastrophic explosion. It was your fist meeting the screen, us screaming and me crying, on my cut up and bruised knees, begging for you not to leave.
I had a tendency to chase after bullets and a desire to fix the mess they would create. I didn’t realise that I was the one being chased. And that I was my mess I had to clean up.
I’ve stopped going after bullets. (But now I play with fire.)
Once again you tell me nothing is wrong but I have known you for too long to see it. And with that little lie, things start to break. So once again I try to see what is wrong, but you are still a closed door in my face and with everything that is going wrong I can not take one more thing on my plate. This being the last drop to overflow my life. Now I find myself deep in a bottle of wine. Just trying to drink my problems away but it won't help since I'm stuck in place. Unable to move.
Today, you ask me what I’m on. I say Wouldn’t you like to know? My friend, Life comes and goes I’m high off of my youth Alive off summer nights Mid-August fights Tears shed, falling into my bed Falling into your arms. Tie-dye shirts, blue-eyed flirts, and mini skirts. Tonight, I am drunk off your voice. Dog days, Smoky haze Tomorrow, I’m completely wasted off your laugh. Mosquito bites, the same old fights, I want brisk autumn nights
I admit Being more wrong than right But I lost More into those fights Is it just me Who struggles to see different light Too late Now I know it may or might be the fate I just can't control at that time All the same Everything fall apart.