He wonders where his sanity has gone as he chews through his own hand.

I feel

When the wind hovers through my lung

This is a notice to let you know that we are still with you. Calamity. There are no more words left--we have used them all.

Think tank--where the sharks swim and I can't keep myself still. I saw you coming closer and decided that it was better to detonate the bomb than to just sit there and let you suck the life out of me. We are not cosmic twins, we are Cain and Abel.

I've got all the justice you never gave yourself. Forgive my will. Bury my desire because it doesn't mean a thing unless you are alive. You'd better save some for when they come.

A narrative dies.

Regress.

Sadness.

Frustration.

Disorientation.

"What do you think I need?"

Sad fucking world.

This is the collector's edition. Get it at the counter. Do not look the teller in the face because it's just too sad.

When I was a boy I dreamt that I was a nightmare and have not woken up since. I'm sorry that I do not make you smile, but it's a sad fucking world--pay attention. I will not repeat myself inentionally. I will not love you unnconditionally because the conditions have been broken. I am playing music on a broken lyre. Your sadness is near--I can smell it. This is not a method. It has always been this way. What was it that you wanted me to do? I cannot remember. The mind forgets what hurts the heart and hopes that the heart has moved on.

Expel the healing. Live like a vandal. Forget about living. It is all a lie. There is no recovery. He worshipped you. Now he's just sad because it's a sad fucking world and all of his dreams are crippled, stuck in the mud or lost on the highway--tyring to catch a ride.

So you killed our friend--what do you want a standing ovation? You want us to be impressed? Your violence makes us sad because it's a sad fucking world.

The sign says that you are intent on it being a

Sad fucking world

Blood on his mind. He cannot breathe. There are no secrets I have not told myself. All others be damned. Voices in my head be damned. So I danced a dance or two while sipping the nectar of your pain--you can't hold me responsible for my own lunacy. Pain on top of pain.

Gushing waters. Paper trail. You cannot mend what I have not broken. Cancel my emotions--I'll wait for the check in the mail. Publicity stunts to help you heal. Did not ask you to break me--I am tired of mending. Did you do it to make me strong? Were you even thinking of me? Do you ever think of me?

The voices in my head do not worship you anymore. They say that you cannot be trusted. The problem is I still do and now they want me dead. They will figure out how to strangle me soon enough. Consider this my will.

Pour your feelings into the fountain and watch them revolve. Poetry is dead. It is all dead.

Belief.

Lies are more honest. Cut the bullshit and lie to me. Tell me everything I want to hear, but how do you know what I want to hear when you don't know me?

Asphyxiate.

When he breathes, he does not breathe poetry. He breathes through his nervous system and now he cannot stop twitching. Do you feel justified? Your results will come back in a week. What fragmented hell have I gotten myself into this time?

I can write until I die, but it will not make a difference. The sad girl was you. The one I dreamed of in a white dress on a swing and then you walked in the next day in a white dress . . . and I thought I was mad. How was I supposed to know that was love? And now you're gone . . . dead to my mind because my heart pleaded that it be so, but the heart cannot forget and so I may never evolve past the point that you walked away. I am a fragment of the dreamer that you crippled. You were an ideal and no amount of reasoning will ever convince my heart of that.

If the hand and the intellect have the heart as a mediator--then who mediates between the heart and the intellect? Are they always at war?

Not cured. No return until it is your time.

Love no one but yourself.

I know that you said it would be alright. The road right. There is no light when the time bomb goes off. I have not seen magic. The end of tragedy is near. Nothing left to fear except sedation. Your voice is a poor substitute for humanity. I don't believe in you and have no obligation to.

All the things he dreamt have been deleted.

Pale soul sold on the banks of the river while the bodies float by and he wonders which ones he killed. He can see the end of time and it frightens him.

It's alright to destroy me because I don't have any feelings.

When you kiss the sky do you think of me?

I am disintegrating but don't worry--I have a ride.

Candy appled fantasies manufactured in the neglected parts of my soul. It is a statement--not a sentence. The sentence is dead. What you see here are remains.

Whistle a dirge and maybe you will feel better.

There is sadness in her eyes. Is she sad? Is she sad for you?

Affection = Affliction

Stop feeling.