i'm slightly broken, crushed, more void then human. liquid fills the cracks, smoke blurres the lines, music shake the pieces.bathroom tiles hazy, light flickering to the beat of my heart, and i swear i see him. behind me with the red eyes and a killing pin between his lips. cracked hands running through my hair, smiling at me like every part of his shattered soul were lying in my hands.bathroom tiles still hazy, light still flickering, heart still beating.he has my soul, too
i'm lostno light no dark just voidit's greyMy body is all dried up and used, too tired to move too tired to think too tired to speakMy arms are weak and my legs are shakingIt's depressionHow do you explain to anyone that your not sick nor sad, just weak?Night turns to day and day turns to night,over and over againWhen your body is dying but your mind is alive, thats hardBut when your body is alive and your mind is dying? Thats torture
Take a hold nowOn the silver handles here,Six silver handles,One for each of his old pals.Take holdAnd lift him down the stairs.Put him on the rollersOver the floor of the hearse.Take him on the last haul,To the cold straight house.The level even house,To the last house of all.The dead say nothingAnd the dead know muchAnd the dead hold under their tonguesA locked-up story.
I am not the black cat.There were four of us;my grandmother,a black cat,a myth,and I.My grandmother oftentold us a myth.When you are ill, she said,if a black catcomes and sits on your bedit means that youwill die soon.I was only six,seriously ill.Our black cat
He wakes, who never thought to wake again,Who held the end was Death. He opens eyesSlowly, to one long livid oozing plainClosed down by the strange eyeless heavens. He lies;And waits; and once in timeless sick surmiseThrough the dead air heaves up an unknown hand,Like a dry branch. No life is in that land,Himself not lives, but is a thing that cries;An unmeaning point upon the mud; a speckOf moveless horror; an Immortal OneCleansed of the world, sentient and dead; a flyFast-stuck in grey sweat on a corpse's neck.I thought when love for you died, I should die.It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.