Tuesday, 16 January 2018

Number 3

I can't help but feel like it's the end of our days
The world is floating by in a distant haze
And you keep saying it is only a phase
While I hold onto cheap memories of us, as the orange sunset turns to gray.

Tuesday, 9 January 2018

Defeat Comes Not When You're Out Of Options, Defeat Comes Through Constant Interruption

Steel framed madness wrapped bullet, streaking orange fire and black smoke into the sky. I always wanted so desperately to die, that it seems ironic that I would care so much right now that I'm alive, that I have been foiled in my one attempt to finally try. I mean, should I not simply roll over and let myself subside, fall into the earth, burrow in a rabid lunacy and cry? I don't want merely to survive, I don't want to strive, I don't want to fail, and fumble, and fight until I thrive. I just want to fly, leave you all behind and say goodbye. I've worked out now that it's not me that needs to die - it's all of you - you all need to fucking fry.

Goodbye My Love, All I wanted To Do Was Hold You Softly Like A Dove, But I Am Weak And My Body's Made Of Sludge

She is fierceness and mystery and a heat that is blistering, inescapable flickering - her light is shimmering and she draws me in like a gossamer moth with wings glistening, my heart open - listening, as if covered in ears that are prickling. But to her I'm a slug slithering, over the cold earth shivering, desperately quivering for the warmth she's delivering.

I just want to feel her heat, nuzzle her and worship at her feet, learn to live and love and lust and leap, but I am just rotten, just old, just old rotten festering meat.