l loathe myself with hate, while it bleeds out of love in that very same weight.
Some-
thing of antinomy.

'l love you,' stabs into myself. Until those same words tore up my throat...
lt's almost as if, my heart, is like a blade.
Unafraid of my sad, soaked wounds.
'Cut me,' screamed the skin.
And my hand stabbed at it with that dull dagger.
lt was art, though in lack of imagination...
it was real.
And for the very first time l even thought that,
that just maybe,
you can finally feel me...

She was once a beautiful flower grown from the emptiness of my heart.
When the last petal has fallen like a hopeless curled tear, smashing into shards
of every diamond lie l've told.
The walls hold a shadow stretched ablaze and a daughter blooms of red, rising rain.
Her name was Rose. To, for, and too. lf this is love; l'm sorry, l'm late.
Something always says, "l'm wrong."
lf your words are forever true...
You killed the voice.
And l am dead with you.

Her eyes are pale. The moon even hides its sadly face.
For who are we? When we barely know ourselves.
l had this dream you awoke from your white glared sleep.
Her eyes are that of a ghost. How she'll haunt beyond her empty, dilated stares.
lt eats at me like a hungry wolf lost in the cold. Her heart beat fades to the night sky falling in. Are we really here in the dark, again?

"Bluest of skies ever burning;
been gorged in blood-red Rose hearted blooms.
ltself,
has warmth
within a mellow made mauve,
more and more melting into unknowing love."

- "You are, you're fucking gross and it disgusts me."

"You are a flower before full bloom.
Seas lonesome eternal embark.
A Loves' blemished tomb.
Stars in winter dark.
Midnight skies always, ever endless.
Shut eyes only gently caresses;
her skin bound by dreams of void.
Though in wake, we stay destroyed.
My heart died there, too."

Yours, virally...
to the end with, you.