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CyanideSometimes in midnights, lifeless,
when all is still and meek.
I would sit amongst the corners,
of that residential spot,
you so have claimed against my heart.
That bitter sweat of sarcasm,
sharpened to my senses.
Poisonous substances,
a shroud arrest upon thy shoulders.
Potassium Cyanide,
leaking from your eyes.
Begging me oh so sweetly,
to stay here by your side.
To roll in Smokey haze,
beyond the dawn of sunlight.
To slumber ever on,
in reality amiss,
to linger on your sugared lips,
licks of hidden poison.
Yet i shan't leave this life in jest,
to stay with one who spites me so.
I’ll run to she who loves me best,
fo
ConstellationsThe freckles on your skin,
Spilling constellations,
Of a future long lost.
Those milky eyes,
Sunken, blinded in clouds,
Of a past ever present.
What have you become?
How could you remain?
These battle scars.
A different kind.
No victory to boast,
As the last man stands.
Drop your weapon, soldier,
Peel from your tattoos,
Shrink into the cobwebs,
where you survived.
Sewing your eyes shut,
With rusted mapping pins.
Doing so, cost you your life,
As I turn from the shattered mirror.
At The EndIn hazy daydreams,
Rambling thoughts,
I would wonder
I would ponder
As I wander
Through these visions.
And I would see.
Would there be a you
Or me, or we,
Or would there be,
In simplicity,
Nothingness.
At the end.
For at the end,
Of thought, or time,
Could there be,
Blankness sublime,
No need to define,
What is left behind
At the close.
Yet nothingness,
Is somethingness,
And somethingness,
Is nothing.
When everything,
Is infinity, quite,
Which in itself,
Cancels itself,
To be nothing.
Picture white.
A shade, a colour,
A type of artist's paint.
If nothingness,
Is simply white,
Or black, it might,
Then nothing
Happy Birthday~ 
!
