#1
i hate rhyming, i think its boring, but maybe you think this is boring, so i guess its personal opinion. no im not emo, no im not some scene faggot. everything i write is different, this is just one instance.

thanks.

Will you let me kiss the wounds on your wrists, make me god-like, let me be who to you confess your sins. I will fall like that of angels, dissect the reason why I?ve been chosen, then decide on the path. There is nothing but light from these windows, begging for a chance to be the outlet, do I smile in the doorway or do I die along the jump.

Was there even a question of my presence at all, court is in session, and I?m getting ****ed by the jesters. Carry yours sins in a handbag, the gold will bleed, my skin will shine with all the beauty I am. The smoke from my lungs is more then apparent, the death I breath is equal, maybe mutual, to the damage you?ve brought to my lips.

Your mother and father should be thankful. What they?ve created is beautifully dreadful.

I hope this means that the only battle I?ll ever have to fight is between the barrel and myself. Inject, infest, if breathing is to alive, then my life is to be dead.
It is the moment that you are living in, and not the one that follows that makes the mess you are cleaning in your head.