Of an unknown melody that reeks of sadness
and bad news. The flop number with no fan following reels and plays on my mind
and I hum it, relishing on those memories of our stupendous times.
Somehow the line “you will walk the
underworld deaf and dumb and blind, and the dead will look up on you and laugh,
here comes the fool…” seems so apt for the mood. I feel like the dead, I feel
like I don’t need to smile, I feel like screaming and crying, but what’s the
point in crying, what’s the point wallowing in your own self pity.
Whenever your memories take me in, whenever
I’m lost again, craving that angelic touch, when ever I need to reimburse my
soul, I’ll come over, come over to yours and reminiscence the sights of your
warmth, your sugar candy taste, I’ll taste your sweetness and go back to be
being dead.
This sweetness however I wish should be
relished completely; I guess I’m going to have to live with just memories.
Scorned memories of dead, reeking, smelly rats. I’ve been
walking down those gray roads filled with sunken memories. Scars on my knees
from those, more than often falls. Dead dry leaves blow over my face. The sand;
black and hurtful discourages me from walking barefoot. The sky broken and
blackened with thick monsoon clouds; sends shivers down my spine. The backlash
from the acid rain; burns my naked back in spots, minute holes with rotting
flesh, more scars for the future.
My jeans have blue bottles stuck and sucking around the torn
edges, my soles red and swollen. The tide seems so far away from the shore, I’d
have to walk a mile to reach some sea water, water that’s so acidic; I’d burn
and die instead of feel refreshed. My dying brain cells, still decay faster than they should. The lack
of oxygen to my brain from my panting, tired heart makes my head work slower
than it can. I have no where to go and still I walk on. What difference will it
make if I stay or leave? None to me or anyone for that matter. If sudden death
could only be bought from the local market, I’d sell myself for a penny. If
sudden death were to befriend me, I’d give it all up for one shot. Hold me,
thrill me, please strangle me…
I’m like the space; you know is there, but can never see. I’m free, content and happy with whatever, I won’t bother, and I’ve been a loner by Compulsion and will continue to be so
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