an aggrivated verbal assault on her.
graphospasm
i guess its fashionable to hate everything, and i just about jumped trend. cut hearts into my flesh, and decorate my ears with beautiful melodies. melodies made from paper shredders and second story jumpers. running from platforms and divulging everything to the ground. persuading those who live with words spoken by chalk. walls not withstanding, i think you'll be quite happy here.cramped, yet stylish. confining, yet quaint.finding what once was forgotten and forcing ourselves to swallow the truth. tastes bitter, doesnt it.
it won't shutup
I've found my voice. Vocal cord removal ; intravenously fed "do" 's and "dont" 's. Reciting these repetitious fictions, all without uttering the bastard-like phrases themselves. The lamplight, at midnight, provides the illumination for your face to be reflected 8 times, inside our little mirror-laden menagerie. gentle oscillation of the blade around the mesentery, loosening your grip upon this histrionical reality. lancinate through lamentations, without the aide of his aide. Just call me a blight. (OBLIVIOUS).
in the key, our screams
well thats the end of that. a lifetime of dead-ends(cul de sacs).the infinite sign has always meant something. just what, we will(never)find out. heart(mind)? catwalks that speak the sultry synonyms of betrayal, and tightropes that call for carrying her (your) burdens for balance. kicking and screaming (coughing and spitting)? I know what has happened. It's been rumoured that it was the couldshoulder that broke your face (heart?). anything but a cathurnus wouldn't suit your description. (its a classic). / such a glorious (mess) is she. such a informal slut, she is. with eyes like the hook of a lure that is set (what a catch), she tears straight through my skin. (a) fake (?). rug torn right from under our feet, and we're left to fall to the floor. writhing (squirming {fucking}). this was never even started, and yet it was already over.
organs like articles of clothing (are easily removable)
conventionality. it seems we have all formed one person. one evil, one
hate. in many FAILed attempts at bettering the human race, we've all failed to learn
that we were just BITTERing our "human" RACE. at birth , we're ripped from the womb and brought forth into a white-TILED, heavily lit disappointment. aging is no different. our lives are no better. BLEEDing emotion from every FUCKING pore of our being all our lives has never gotten us anything but BROKEN. broken hearts and broken dreams are one in the same. while we all dream from our hearts our minds add all the fucking clutter.
specifically in general
optimistic preparation of the table. surveying. gaping wide, blank, vacantly open.
comfort. comfort IS key, while these scars resemble doorways opened. fallen syntheticism,
all dressed up. as if i'd sew her eyes wide open. vision granted, by the virtue of truth. flattery will get you no-where. except in her fucking bed.
teeter-totter
live... and like bombs we fall from our pedestals, crashing to the ground.
brushing back the blanket of black, and creating a failsafe against your air-raids.
breathe. life lessons learned so far: caressing those who sleep easily draws blood from the tips of your fingers. cracking in the distance, she hears him. playing the nutcracker suite off his old phonograph. in the distance our rocking horse still spins, from the time we last met on the playground. emotion. older, wiser, bitter.we are not the same as 3 summers past. where we once hung our hats, our hearts now reside.
fire funds
its like im sitting here, a paper millionaire. calculating the dividends amidst the spread wings of this raging forest fire, and this god forsaken adding machine just wont function. you've gotten me running again, only this time im dont know who im running from, or what i'm running to. this evening, our reading material becomes a paper protectorate, being used to keep your mothers fine china away from our silverware. oh! oh! keep that pitch! it's absolutely perfect! don't lose it now. i cant believe this is happening. i've been composing the ultimate shattered glass symphony, and i've just found my final wind instrument. DON'T LOSE THAT PITCH. your scream is perfectly in tune with the rest of my composition. the orchestra pit is calling your name. If you keep this up, we'll definately be in business. I'll make you a star, i guarantee it. By the time your pride heals, you'll be the only one left implementing this scorched earth policy. A queen, or something of the sort. Tell me, how does it feel to rule over everything you've destroyed?
rhetoric
painting upon canvases composed solely of black holes, carrying shadows towards light. bringing shadows into spotlights, expose'. six-dash-two. right-through-you. [is she still breathing...?] blue planes flying towards the brilliance of the red ocean floor. falling, ladder. which could lead toward the light? clinging to clouds running from the sun. e[w]e wit[h] e[y]e, causing our shadows to faulter. never has obscurity spoke such a tale, with such lack of regard for detail. i'm positive lambs do not take umbrage when led to their slaughter.
it's hard to believe, but this is the first time ive practiced taxidermy on human flesh.
horizontally, not vertically (guff)
oh darling, i hope your happy. after this, there wont be enough left of me to fill that dainty littly locket that dangles from your neck. uttering three words that mean nothing to either of us, just buys us time. the end is truly inevitable. why cant we all just see that? why cant you see that? this is bound to end tonight, i can almost guarantee it. i have 10 needles, each with one letter of your name inscribed on it. ill sew your eyes shut with two, and pull your lips together, both sets, with two more. that leaves me four. four, isnt that ironic? ill use two of those four, to sew your ears to your head. ill keep you perfectally positioned, so that when i sew your hands together with that bouquet it looks perfectly innocent.
'the essence of the times'
I remember when we tattooed each others name on our calves. You told me that you'd been to this place before, and it was here that you got that chinese symbol of lust forced onto your lower stomach. I still feel it aching sometimes. A dagger, and on the handle the phrase "till death" is engraved, this is elegantly intertwined with a bleeding rose. Our symbol. I barely glance at it now. I remember, hah, that one time you layed in my arms through the night. gently carressing my face and playing with my hair. PAUSE. You never ONCE looked into my eyes. Nevermind that, though. Now is your time to shine. I recently re-purchased that blade from the pawn shop we sold it to, and then took it down to get re-engraved and a new addition put in. FAST FORWARD. I remembered your allergies, so i bought nylon rope. Who said i dont care about you? I re-dressed your wounds and re-dressed your body. That blue dress with the open back drives me wild, how did you know? mmmm. Your hair smells so beautiful. I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING!!!! You! Here! With me! AND YOU'RE ALL MINE!! and n o - o n e will take this away from me. PAUSE. Stop squirming , my love, you're only driving the dagger farther into you. PLAY. As i lean over and kiss you now, i take that rose with a little of your blood left on it, and slide it in the newly carved hole in the handle of this blade. All thats left in this room are the flies, that chair you're sitting on, and that blade, engraved with "(F)or (U)nlawful (C)arnal (K)nowledge", sticking 6 inches out of your chest.
'sleeveless shirts are just so much better'
end me now. ill keep your hand steady whilst you aim for my heart. once your finished raping my goodwill and kindness, then put a bullet through my brain. let the insides slowly creep forward and out the gaping wound left in my cranial cavity. let my true thoughts and feelings come out, and be told to everyone who never believed what i said. retrace my silhouette onto the wall, and scrawl a few meaningless letters and numbers beneath it. as if that could help you remember me. you'll forget, oh you'll forget. just like all the rest. im sick of you feigning interest in my interests, just to try to keep me occupied. im oh-so-fucking sick. lets re-write this masterpeice, lets change this composition, lets make a new mark on that sculpture. ill carve this forget me not, right into your chest, and i'll be sure to dot all those pretty blue eyes, and cut a cross through those tight, revealing tees. smile, you fucking slut, so you'll look pretty when the police get this picture, and one of your severed limbs.
i've been a busy boy. those are alot of old ones modified and titled. read them, tell me your favorite, and your least favorite. let me know why. and let me know which one you would like to see as a song next.
<3.