Credits

[sorrowbird87]

The whole catacomb
of our existence
depends on this emotional suicide.

One half of my body
doesn't register
that there's a time frame of sobriety,
but the other part,
well, she is just an ugly beggar
without a functioning libido.
Proceed with caution
my negative body images says
with a cocked gun and loaded smile.
Maybe your drugs
just cannot match
my hopscotch skin or dynamic altercations.

I hate your laugh,
it remind me of myself.
I hate your tears,
it's with every splatter that I visualize
someone else getting inside of me!
Metaphorically speaking,
I hope that the next soul braver
than an random act of benevolent passion
breaks my heart before my spine.

So little has been shared
by transmitting my lips
to your gently sealed eyes!
I only want the reflection
of your words
to expel my rapid journey into loneliness.
I could die
through the hanging of every notebook page,
but the are oh so fragile.
I could die
by throwing myself into the Caspian,
but the waves already sense my fears.
I could die
without seeing my own blood
spill out into a dirty subterranean gutter.

I will however,
not parish through my hands,
for I am too old to break myself clean.