the downpouryour mouth.a source of lies.denunciation.how i would love to take that mouthinto my hands...and what would be left of that little mouth?a fissure.a wound.scar tissue.a gaping hole.edged in bloodand scabs.but knowing youand the way that you are,you would break open the sores,so that what's left of your mouthcould hack out the septicityof all that is your words.ignorance really is bliss.
strength in lovea rosea gift to ease herto gain her trusta silk white handto holdher smile so clearalone they sitamong shrubsand cricketsthe night is emptyand no one is nearhe whispers his loveand she her assentundying devotionas he buries his bladecutting a second mouthhis love is strongshe is weakthe red pourswith all the colorand lustof a rose
clumsyWho will be my airwhen I drown?Who will be my cushionwhen I fall?Who will be my bloodwhen I've drained my own?Oh, I am a fool.And, oh, I am so clumsy;to stumblewhen you leave.I cannot seewhat is plain view.Open my eyesby seeing mefor who I really am;spoilt, clumsy fool.oh, wretched me.I can save anyone,yet I alwaysfalter.
insatiablehunger.need.a driving force.ever achingto be released.beg.plead.a single touch.an explosion,but wantremains.unscathed.
the voidthere is a part of me missing,a void,where the smiles and laughterof a past mewere kept.the space is vast,and i am consumedby the terrorof being so incomplete.i can fallinto this blank place,and be satiated;if i only allow my beingto be swallowedcompletely,utterly.devoured.
deafone worda single syllableto my earsit fallsa kissa bruiseone wordends allmy earshave fallendeaf...