Friday, September 23, 2005


It's not the dagger in my chest that hurts me. It's the fact that you put it there. Rainclouds come and go, the marble of the gravestone forgets my name... and beneath a field of carnations, my bones grow whiter. The scent of lavender seeps heavier into my soul.

The scent of lavender. The scent of madness. The scent of emptiness. Ahh... pour me into that void. Pour me slowly, down your dead, white fingers. Let me drip... drip... drip... till the last droplet dries from the vessel. And no fragrance is left.

The music has struck its highest note, and then the guitar strings split. Now, only the drum beats on. Primitive. Monotonic.

This is not love.
This is not love.

It's something beyond.

Pain is my addiction.


Enemy of the Republic said...

I just came across your blogs. This is very good. I really like it. Pain is a terrible addiction, isn't it?

White Magpie said...

Pain is an addiction and the mind is a terrible thing to waste..Unadulterated hatred all consuming eh?