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My Suicidal Enzyme.obnoxious,
clinging onto my inevitable destruction,
my best kept secret,
the flicker of an eyelash,
cold agaisnt my skin,
a tawny gene,
is all i have to certify,
my doubtfall existance.
until i bleed irony.
I love my redneck wit,
convincing me into apoptosy,
you always had been,
my suicidal enzyme
Lose Yourself in the Music
You underestimate the power of words.
I suppose it has never occured to you,
that communication is not only spoken;
bitter crotchets regurgitating my life, my emotions, my thoughts.
A single letter could deprive you of your soul.
An insignificant movement of a lip,
could lead you to disastor.
It is unnescessary to be afraid.
Fear only hinders us from our dreams.
And dreams become relaity in our imagination.
We must embrace impossibilities and produce our own perspective.
A perspective that is true to yourself.
Because only you can change your world.
Only you can achieve your desires,
all you need,
is one simple thing;
being to open your eyes.
ConcussionEvery scrape of skin,
our skin bonded by bone,
all the dust peel off us,
and fall into a column,
of sin, desire but death.
Every root of scalp,
blinded by a fringe,
all my eyelashes crack,
resting on your tongue,
upon concusion of confess.
Every cell of blood,
escaping from our skin,
crawling down our spines,
closing our perspective;
putting us to rest.
Billie's last breath.With this razor, i slit my throat, as you wrapped your noose of lies around my neck. The blood dripped, as the angels tightened the rope, restricting my airflows, platelets, soul.
How i dreamt of this moment, so many times before, only to find a hand ceasing my blade.
Yet this time there is no one.
For i am no one.
I was no one.
And as I feel a sudeen drip of blood linger down my throat, i embrace the rush of carbon choking my insides; my guardian angel kissing me softly.
Although my vision is blurred, everything remains clear.
A soft caress from death,
squeezing my life from me.
I had no home.
I had my dream.
I was never sufficient.
Thirty Four Years.Thirty four years,
and you still can't sleep.
Consumed by fears,
and the secrets you keep.
Thirty four years,
and you're still alone,
regretting your verbs;
wishing she had known.
Thirty four years,
pretending you hadn't heard,
closing your ears,
but you can't ignore their words.
You've wiped you tears,
but you're still incomplete.
its been thirty four years,
and you still cannot sleep.
Reach out your Hand.I cannot see your eyes,
but i can hear your sighing,
drowning within our lies,
which consume you and not me,
it should have been,
darling; it should have been me.
You must be ten metres behind,
at least or perhaps ten more,
listening to voices in your mind,
conflict edging into war,
war which should have been,
war which should be inside me.
I can feel your heart freezing,
yet i cannot reach you,
in your trance of reason;
doubting facts we once knew,
it should have been, my love,
it should have been,
a trance to absorb me instead of you.
I know there is a wall between us,
i know this is an act in vain,
reach our your hand, darling, you must;
let me indulge your pain,
and together we'll become something,
catching flames in the night,
to burn into nothing.
Boxes.I know you are afraid of me.
Likewise i am of you.
2 beating boxes:
trapped inside a room.
I am aware of your equation -
fortune, beauty but hate.
1 hollow box:
beating for your sake.
I know this is the end for you.
Long ago was the end of me.
0 mesmerised boxes:
floating in this sea.
The Keyboard of my SoulI press the keys.
Zeros entering my body.
It is too late.
We stand united; two people, one mind.
We hold hands as we search within the perils of this society.
Our spine, curved, immortalised in an essence of letters. Our breath whispers a thousand wisdoms, whilst our mind battles in pictures.
Forever your shadow hovers over my shoulder, fighting for attention.
We consume each others dreams; bursting the abstract wall of desire, caressing the emotions and feeding on the center.
I long for the memories to idiolise the passion of being idle, rather than exploding into torment.
You knew it was the end.
Death cannot be denied.
Geraldine knew nothing.
Eddy knew all.
Dignifying Our Destruction.We are alone now,
and we take a stand;
two feet shaking into one.
Our minds curdle,
what our eyes cannot perceive;
generating genotypes into our ghastly genome.
Everybody is obessed,
trying to recover exaggerated insercurities;
tie the knot, then slack the eye,
and achieve the useless lies.
There is no point in persecution,
we are self-absorbed diseases,
contaminating each other.
We've been wasting our time;
I did not need your answers,
and you didn't need mine.
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
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