Now in the throes of that one soundless melody,
He truly opens his eyes for the first time
Like a flower bright and delicate the petals open;
Eyelashes glint with dewdrop tears and there he is
Looking out on what he fought for while he could not see
Blind as a newborn yet the colours he percieves
Astound him.
My fruitless little withering flower,
Only seeds of sorrow and misery,
You reap your own destruction as it
Grows around you,
Eats right through you,
Ravenous parasite of your suffering
Devouring and forcing the blood out,
You flee from what makes you what you are,
Wonderful, loathesome as it is for me and you.
Always seperate: 'Me' and 'You',
'Us' is no word for the damned.
You murder us
With your wish to and vows for forgiveness,
That you cannot give me anymore
These days than you can yourself.
So you pretend to us both and well,
I'd rather that than what is truly lodged in your heart,
That tattered shelled up vector of your lies.
This end of mine is a friend of mine,
Just that seedling lie you planted within me,
Innocently in your misguided ways,
Taught me to take it all the wrong way without once saying a word,
The deceitful truth you knew was fractured
I hate to believe what I know sometimes,
Words, or reality, or you,
Candid and so unlike me in your purity, as you are.
Dear.
You could be the poisoned apple
If only you'd let them,
Bite right through your delicate skin to the toxic flesh beneath,
Beautiful, no face to be flawed with,
No visage that I ever want to see again,
You may as well be dead in the name to me
All you are now is grief and envy.
Venomous and lethal,
So dark and beautiful like
The deflowered flower of nightshade,
Death bringer and bell ringer,
Passionate, boundless dancer and enchanter; ticking rythm of the clockwork in my chest,
And you can
Bury it down deep in a casket of truths woven into falsehood all for me.
But over all you will be that consuming, wild and relentless fire of cremation
Of me, of everything that is, was, will be.
