kiiarra03
Miss are you sure?
Positive you'd like to do this?
Go through with this procedure?
Do what you have to,
please, please,
take a finger,
take a toe,
take a limb,
take my nose.
Please, please, please.
Rid me of my soul.
When you get down to it,
when you dig the deepest,
into the pit of the actual abyss,
you'll see.
You'll see lies,
white,
large,
various pieces of hearts,
shreds of humanity clinging to the hollow branches of bare limbs.
You'll see soulless bodies, eyes glassy and skin rotten
numb to this poison radioactive air.
You get down to the pit, the actual abyss,
you'll see where you left me.
You'll see the little white lies, stuck in my paper calloused skin like push pins.
You'll see the plastic encasing of large lies stuck in the back of my rotten mouth,
expect a pain stricken, desperate face.
Find a solemn, content one, knowing I had died there
in this pit, the actual abyss,
rather than with you, clouded with lies, want and the need that I can't fulfill for you.
We're scattered. In the beginning of December, it was 70 degrees and I thought of you. Dear, I hurt, I hurt. I hurt so much for you. Dear, you say, you tell me, you hurt you hurt. You hurt so much for her. You can't have her, oh, you hurt. I can't have you, oh, I hurt. We're scattered on this earth, pieces disheveled, sharpened and broken and scattered on this earth. I tried to pick up the pieces dear, she did and I did. She tried, I tried. We both gave up, but you stuck with her.
We're scattered babe, piece by piece on this earth, she can't fix me, what makes you think she would be able to fix you?
We changed like the seasons. You're the deepest, hardest winter with the hushed leaves and the bare limbs. I'm the fall, the spring, the summer, your winter, your scorn, your guilt, your passion. You were mine, I was your season, you were mine. Seasons change, people change, we changed with them. Don't weep.
They say it's a miracle that they met
Say it's a miracle that they have what they have
Say their blessed
But others say blessings don't come to their type
But who's to say that they don't?
I, for one, believe their blessed.
I just wish you would do, Dad,
And not just see them by the way they're dressed.
His body is covered in ink.
Not mistakes, like they think.
Just ink.
The texture of his hair is the first thing that comes to his mind when he wakes up.
It's in his face
In his nose.
It tickles, but he thinks he wouldn't have it any other way.
He loves the chocolate curls, soft, and they smell just like /Harry/.
He loves Harry.
Carbon copies of himself, he thinks
Carbon escapes from his maw with a wince.
It hurts.
He limps to the garage and dies via carbon monoxide poisoning.
With a chain around his thin neck,
He sighs.
It's not the same
Not as it used to be
Not with the man in his life
Not with the mates in his life
Not with the laughs
He twirls the chain and gives a faint smile and the heart monitor beeps.
He's had the ride of a lifetime,
The mysterious one would say
As Harry slowly fades away.
Side to side
Feel the rhythym
Steadying of the heartbeat
Feel the warmth
Feel the poison
Bitter
Comforting
Slides down the throat with a scald.
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writing since 2012 · 12 entries · 12 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means deliriumatic showed up.
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