Where are your eyes in your reflection?
from everything you have done for yourself; now you neglect the self, doing everything for you. or her. stains of metaphors form rivers of nakedness. cold and awful it must seem to the sender. but the receiver cowers behind walls of hurt that form new barriers that supposedly prevent more decadence and damage. recall those who shower merciless rage upon you and it will be easy. pick yourself up and dust off the webs of confusion. clarity is not a myth, but it remains a place of half-truths. hurt yourself and even friends with wings will not grace your presence. concrete in your veins did not form for no reason, you bastard. it is time death seeks you for the whore that you have become. do not speak of fairness and penance. you deserve none and you have paid enough. just leave,
your absence is needed. or is it?
when you explicitly express lies that i submit to. when every letter and word replicate hailstones upon glass windows of my weakly built domain. this stoic persona will always remain, but the interior walls have been cracked and the repairs that have been painted over are decaying with every straying thought. pressure is what it is. the underlying meaning of every time you hurled verbal abuse at the mirror trying to force an answer out of the reflection. the depression was minimal, now form a crater of a magnitude to house the built up tension.
i am always alone in this misery you shower upon me.
watch me fade away. every moment away from you i had spent sitting in that corner toying with the sickness that surrounds me. i insist on wallowing in the vagaries that i have purposefully chosen. naively obfuscating afraid to reach the expiration that has become of your carapace. so long i have depended on your affluence that now i waste away, ungracefully.
yes, i am guilty of dalliance.
fucking kill me. please.
