It's funny what we do under the cloak of darkness

i have a twisty heart.
as i pace its corridors,
i find that,
i wish i have never been loved,
i wish i have never loved.
as i pace my heart's library,
i find thousands of books,
most unfinished.
like the book Love.
it didn't even make it through one chapter.
but some are written in mastery.
such as, Sorrow.
now that, that is a 5,000 page masterpiece.
i find a Dictionary.
there is one page, one definition,  
it reads.
     love- something you never want, it brings nothing but negativity, and every type of sadness.
my heart is blurred.
as i quickly leave my hearts library,
i enter the lobby.
everything is white,
the walls, floors, the ceiling.
it almost hurts to look.
there is one thing in the room.
a chest.
i have always had the key.
i could never find what it goes to,
but i know this is it.
i slowly approach it.

i unlock it.
i start hearing a ticking,
like a timer.
i open the chest,
a heart is rigged to a bomb.
6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

...

i start to choke.
blood starts pouring,
just pouring,
like a waterfall,
out of my mouth.

how am i faking almost every human interaction


so well

Loneliness is an art form

tell me, how does the ocean know when to stop?

please,
                      tell me
will your demons
       come out...
and go on their normal route.
          or...        will they play with mine
   and dine.                                    
               dine on their hosts flesh, you and i
our hearts are first, they will be fried
their mouths      water        
while we're in for the    slaughter

You are a exceedingly seldom species,
of evil and lovely