Desolate Dreams

Desolate Dreams                 

are the incarnate of my ever present

fears and hopes in one bundle of self destruction,

this perpetual hell you see is but a fraction

of the truth. The scythe that cuts deep is just a

reflection of your words on my skin,

and as I spill the bright red blood that fades to black

you realize that this darkness is

the purity you seek, and as you desperately

try to lap up this oozing black pureness,

it is torn away from you by your own insecurities,

just as you tore life from me.

Are we really so ignorant to think that

we will be safe from oblivion, that we are

the “special one.”

you are truly a fool.

These thoughts are the poison in your bloodstream that  

slowly kills you no matter how much you resist

and deny.

Your ruthless actions are like white-hot knives that

pierce my bubbling, searing, blistering skin

but when you see the damage, you only thrust them

further.