There's a certain subtlety to killing yourself slowly that makes you feel alive.
A fiend for solitude,
Seems a wishful death,
Wait another comes to resurrect,
But just a shovel like the rest,
Kiss me,
Bury me,
Deeper,
Deeper still,
O heart,
That dreadful knife that pounds away,
Romanticized for your lover's sake,
Olives to thorns,
Born and born again,
Til all the petals fall,
Love me or not at all,
But don't for your minds sake,
And surely not for the breads,
For in the end,
you'll just starve and hunger again.
About the Creator
Ames Upward
My thoughts and feelings flow out of my mouth and splatter across the walls like a paint. Let my tongue be the brush of your heart and mind. May my words shape a masterpiece of your soul..
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