Poison

November 2, 2005

Poison... that toxic perfume of my existence slowly poisons and taints itself unto death. I feel it... with every pump of that wretched organ, the fire is pushed to the outter reaches of my body and returns back again spreading it's disease, beginning it's decay. The blood I once held as precious, the red liquid intoxication with which I was obsessed, now seems a vile overrated neccessity that obtrudes itself upon me. I pray for the rain to wash this filth away from me. To pour itself upon my skin and wash away this corruption leaving the soft skin that was once beneath the hand of the one that I wished it to be.

Release

A steady drip, I steadily slip,
Silence,,, save for the echo of each drop.
A slit wrist, against your fist,
Pray the blood not stop.
Heated hands, the burning sands,
Slow motion, the cold slips in.
Shivering, shaking, morbid lovemaking,
I see it down there,,, the end.
Falling non-stop, drip, drip, drop,
Through darkness into relief,
And Oh, so it seems, I am only a dream,
A dream in a dream of this peace.
And as I escape life's cruel cherade,
To feel the crimsoned release,
Drop upon drop, and a final stop,
Then suddenly the maddness has ceased.