L'Enfant Terrible.

visualizing the incarceration of thyself.

so i have become one of the above. materialising like the other rats that creep under the light that sneaked in through the crevice. treading upon murky water and revelling in the beauty that lies without. the beauty which remains far fetched and unreachabale. watching feet shuffling and like rain they beat down on the asphalt with intent and with no end in sight. whispers of voices in the echos that bounce of the walls of the sewer that i was flsuhed down in the inkling of a thought.

and now i sit here carving inscripstion into my own arms.

is it a fault of mine that to this life i was born? is it a fault of mine that i was not equipped for this mindless violence that was inflicted upon me? i have become. and i have not. as nature dies i die too. as nature replenishes itself, i remain dead. so then, i sit here still, hoping for someone to flush down their excretions so i can prolong for another week, feeding of the contempt off the lives of many.

the yellow eyes glow in he dark. and he is looking at me.

from being an infant, i have become the enfant terrible. biting into the flesh of the rest who were unfortunate like me. but unlike me, they have not evolved. these horns i have grown give me strength in abundance when against the walking dead. you will see and i will no more bleed. and i will work my way to you and then you will be like the reward i endured the vermillion sufferings for. and they will watch me crush you between my shiv like teeth and then i will be rejuvenated; for the life you led me to, i will introduce you to.

don't be afraid.

i have built a very special sarcophagus for you.

Pages are dry, for now.

you treat me with such hate that now i cannot see beyond my blodshot eyes. so now i realise that flirting with disease was not a mistake; but a means of escape from you as you always take everything from my inside and spend it thoughtlessly.

now i am empty.

and you dare speak of loyalty and love and everything that is imminent with such speak? leave me to myself for the death of you is what i seek because of the vile and tainted being that you are has become inevitable and crystal and it makes my reflection look better than it was before.

die a lonely death, you that is vile, vicious and villainous.

Have we lost to our memories?

each days passes with more fervor than the last. each night lingers with more intent than the last. in pursuit of vagaries we reach out to in vain, letting ourselves drown in the depths that have cast in stone our doubts for tomorrow. is it really pointless to persist on analyzing that which is gone? the incessant drones of voices in ear drums as they persevere to let it be known that being lost is never by mistake, but by complacency. yet they have always been met by nonchalance, when faking confidence.

have we lost to our memories?

each calculated step performed to the joy of a perfectionist. each step she dances, delicate and full of grace. yet her face is sullen and her eyes are closed. but she does not falter. this routine she has taken again and again when laden with the misery she inflicts upon herself. she remembers perfectly, what comes after the other, almost with swagger. she knows i sit and stare in awe as her pink pointe puts to shame a midsummers night's dream.

flooding lights, blind my sight.

she stands in the middle of the stage motionless letting the light cast shadows under her eyes to hide her shame from me. she stretches her hand out and whispers my name, begging for my awakening. pleading for my influence as she feeds off it to stay sane. she touches my fingers and drags me in between everywhere and good bye, knowing i need an end to my heading nowhere.

but she is deceitful.

like a drop that had sent ripples through still water, i blink. causing a tremor in my state of vision shaking my sense of self awake; finding myself sitting amongst silence and the vibrations of strings attached to piano keys. only to see the stage empty, proving my bliss montage fake. the pink pointe in my hand, tattered and aged depicting my state of mind.

i have lost, to perdurance.

Pass me by. Leave me to die.

do not spend some time to analyse the disparate layers of meaning embedded in me. do not take the time to lavish upon the complexity that is me, your shallow emotions conditioned by society. do not pay attention to all the minute details that fill the shell that has become of me. do not touch the tears that are off a different colour, that roll down my colourless cheeks. do not attempt to sew the wounds that have riddled my neck. do not pick me up off of the icy floor that welcomes me.

you. do not.

you sit in the corner and pretend that you are overwhelmed in hurt. you bury your face in your quivering hands and deceive me with your tears after you push me down the steps that lead to the gutter. you sob softly and flinch when you gaze upon the deep gash in my chest and fake that you are to blame. you slump against the wall dazed and weak and convince yourself that this is worse than death, after i am dead.

stop pretending.

i know you have eaten your fill and leave me to the vultures. i know you are relieved because the moment i decided i had enough, i forced submission. i know your elation now that my decision to leave has left you with no choice to make. i know you feel freedom the moment i had turned my back and you impaled me with a sly smile that took form of a shiv that tore through my flesh and left a spine that splintered. i know.

in the perfect world, i would not have known you.

and that would be perfect.

put the gun to my head and squeeze as much as you desire.

i am already numb.

do you see epiphany?
you have cut me down to size.

Caress.

I dreamt you in last night, sleeping outside my door. I could smell your scent, hear your accent, feel your eyes, kiss your breath. I saw the light caress your body as you strolled by so casually, so comfortable among your things. I pushed through and was steadily riding through your imagination.

you pierce my reality and you drag me down and out holding my hand and make me lie beside you. i hold you tight but you don't. i lay a kiss near your lower lip but you don't turn away. i want to look at you but you shut your eyes. i want to whisper into your ear but you cover your ears. i close my eyes now.

it is the sweet smell that you emit from your exterior. the smell of your exasperation when you strain under pressure from your predominant desires. it the smell of the pain you feel when engulfed in self question of your perceived morals that seem to blur during our deluge of thoughts. only i can see it for you are saturating my mind with every subtle movement of the pools of midnight that are your eyes.

it is the touch of your flowing hair when it grazes my eyes and forces them to close in preparation for your hands that caress me. dainty fingers that follow the bruises down to my chest that my heart speeds up its rhythm and you listen to it, intently. the touch of the tip of your nose at my neck and the soft caressing of your eyelashes when you gaze upon my slight smile that i smile when i know you are looking at me.

now that you are soothed and reassured, you sing for me. the gentle and soft voice of tiny moments when fingers entwine. the song we have the last waltz as two lonely people together.

i submit.

do as you wish with me.