Staring blankly ahead
A big white page with no black ink
Dead people come to your page and go
They want to help you but nobody can help you
Not even God because He doesn't want to.
Smell of dead bodies,
smell of meat,
skin and blood,
getting fried in the pan.
An egg in the pot is being boiled.
dinner is ready.
You can't get any help,
Like an O+ blood group-ed who gives help
but doesn't receive any.
Like so many signals you've sent
but he doesn't understand.
they're never as smart as you are.
they are just pretty and empty-inside,
just the body and the blood
and a skin to cover this emptiness,
to cover the blood that doesn't move
and the body that smells.
A man smells forever,
if he consists of body and blood
if he's dead or alive
(doesn't really differ).
Dead people are not happy to hear this
but they too smell
and this smell is killing me inside.
Like my skin is melting
and the blood that doesn't move is appearing
and my bones are breaking,
knocking down like a building.
the prettier the skin,
the cover,
emptier the inside
barely any soul at all.
I meant to make a good end
but i couldn't
i have never had a good end for anything
i can't write what i haven't seen.
but i accept any comments if you have seen.
