gloom looks so good on you 
we're doomed. theres no room for two.
a stagnent game of islolation
ironic, chronic concentration 

on rainy days 
wet shadows play 
the melancholy dries away 
caught between a dying sun, a loaded gun, the ides of May. 

****** ****** desolation 
injected with the sweet sensation
in loving hate, you despise creation 
we are deep. unconscious. animations. 

i like, i hate, i love, i loath 
schizophrenic panic mode 
like me, hate me, love me cold. 
i watch the stars

and stars implode.