an old poem from feb 08

and when you die, 
look to the soul, 
you finally awakened,
selfishly taken
and spit your lungs out,
so i can waste them
i will save the scarlett heart
for last
so i can taste it
to suck on your morbidity
is but a luxury,
to think of all the living
you despise
on this roller coaster ride
and even yet 
to know i lack the things
which i can not comprehend
the sheer thought of you
bloodied, shrivilling hopelessly
makes me one of them.

1 comment:

  1. I think we know more about each other than we think.