We Might Get Well Tomorrow - A Series Of Poems

The Braindead Nihilist II

Can't enjoy my youth
Can't enjoy my days
'Cause at the moment I'm really pissed
That before I blink, you won't exist

In my mind, I guess
Limbs are strewn apart,
Right now, your voice strikes me like thunder,
But how long will that last, I wonder?

'Cause one day, you won't
Piggyback my hair
All your aspirations turn to dirt,
And all that's left of you is my hurt

To convert, puts me
In a one man line
Fading achievements turn to warning
Leaving me just lost in the mo(u)rning

Again, and I won't
Know what your face is
All that you took to last a fighter
Won't even make the harsh wind lighter.

Everything you said
Everything you felt
Flicked away by merciless arm strikes
Pink splatters pick and choose what it likes

To define you by.
It's shape-shifting clay
Watch all the tiny moments crumble
So I won't hear your blue lips mumble

That we might get well
Tomorrow, if just
You could hold my hand in forceful dream
I'd kill you again in lacking stream

So raise your spirits
For The Braindead Nihilist
Mourn him right, he's rotting for two now...