I hear nothing...
I see nothing...
My soul stands on the edge of a serated life
Every second, the chasm beneath my silent breath beckons me to fall.
I can no longer feel the beating of my own heart,
Only the constant ache of the blade cutting deep into my feet.
My wrists are bound and shackled by morning-glories and jasmine, yet the only smell I intake is the overwhelming aura of my own fresh blood.
The flora intertwines with vines of thorn, and the mere nectar of the white flowers is poison upon my skin.
Every inch I try to breathe, the knots grow tighter, cutting off the circulation of my veins
Time seems to laugh at my predicament...waiting to see what will further befall my neck...listening for my cries that remain silent, but violent, within.
I'm hanging
Hanging on the vertice of the tranquility of my longing for death, and the unavoidable knowledge that I cannot escape.
Sweat trickles down my brow, but I cannot wipe it away its irritance, for my arms are suspended in such a way that I cannot even move my head.....
I have only my thoughts to make me feel free,
But the feeling of freedom, I know, is but a dream.
I can taste the dryness inside my mouth; the thick, encrusted blood...
...And I long for anything just so that I can lick my chapped and broken lips.
Chase away this flesh...
Care to cut me down?!
My feet are scarred a hundred fold
With bleeding stripes marking time's breath...
...My tears no longer impale the light...no longer are they seen.
I hang pressed into reality
Pulled at by Time
And nearly beaten by humanity...
So I close my eyes
They can't touch my soul
I feel my essence flowing within my body
The power derived from will, from the sheer preservation of my inner mind.
I hold no heart beneath my skin
But an ebony pool to wash away the venom of the jasmine petals upon my charred pores.
I hang forgotten by many...
But the only important eyes who know,
Are the cloaks who also choose Identity.
