"i try my best at sleeping but my dreams are unappealing." - the japanese house
there is an earth shattering ache in my chestwhen i wake up from a sweet dream; the vast emptiness of what could have been. i bend and break, yew trees and the soft acceptance of thorns and how they hurt; to love is a catastrophe.
i cannot breathe; water clogged lungs, airways, bloodstreams and blood in streams; ophelia, sweet ophelia is my protege. i sleep like i live in the yesterdays; building homes out of distant men and rude awakenings. building homes out of disgraceful endings. i think yesterdays are my daydreams, muses of ballads, muses of poets.
it is easy to want to live when death is two inches from your nose; i dance with pinocchio and his mesmerizing lies. you have an aching scent etched into my skull, creeping through corridors and elevators, creeping into my skin. do you like it? did i?
my tongue is on fire; me and my vitriolic words, spewing at you like bone and tissue for sacrifice. sledgehammers and my butcher's instincts; i won't stop crooning to my lust for blood, fat in the fire, fat furs, warmth.
like a b-black sheep baa-baa-ing into the corners of my b-brain, i am scared to fall a-asleep.