I promise. Only...
If I was to promise one thing to you, my love. It would be a laminated death and plastic sleeves so when we bleed, it won't ruin the carpet. If I was to become this plastic kingdom for plastic ages. The dark times would never come. We'd reflect the sun. Carefully, of course. My spirit inside is going to come out. Sooner.... or later. I can feel it's claws ripping at the ribs. I can feel it's teeth knawing at my spine. Like the meal for centuries to come. This death that lives inside my sides can't die. It can't become an ending. Only a beginning. A revolution. A volunteered action of moralless faith. Like drugs and candy suckers.