All he gives me,
was the silent treatments.

It sure kills me,
but what else could i do?

to turn it all around,
to make it not.

I think
I make friends
and love
only because
I like to watch the blood flow from my wrists
to the ground
well
even though I had nothing to cut with
my body still bled
and I think
that bleeding
will **** me

If we forgo pursuing truth
Then we allow ourselves to die
I’ve done so long ago
When complacent with her lie
With the word of a woman
Who carries death in her sight
Unfit to reject her own skill
For she brings with it slight delight
Both soldier and weapon
Difference had died with her
The daughter of hopes rejoice
Now walks as a hopeful killer
Burdened are the knowing
For fitting words had rung
And she knew of what escaped
Beneath her velvet tongue

I can’t see their anger.
I can’t taste their rottenness.
I can’t smell their stench.
I can’t hear their screams.
I can’t feel their stones.

I’ve grown cold of this world.
Shutting out all the lunacy
by looking into myself.

And I’m content, calm, ready.
They can’t scare me anymore.
I’ve sent my fears to the gallows.

Some say real
Is what you see
Some say
It's what you feel
Like a man down on one knee

Some say real
Real does not exist
That if we really open our eyes
All we see is a cloudy mist
And it's there we go when we meet out demise

I wonder
What does real mean
Is it what we see
What we feel
Or something else
Right under our heel?

After great pain, a formal feeling comes--
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Toombs--
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round--
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought--
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone--

This is the Hour of Lead--
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons recollect the Snow--
First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go--

I question wether heaven has gates
and if the Devil is their master.
If his fingertips has the power
to leave me out of paradise.
If he will turn me down
for what my mind has made me do.
Is there a reason they tell me to **** you
Was there a reason for this madness,
this chaos in my head.
I think there is but
will the Devil let me in?