Its black, grimy arms pierce through my soul and embrace my paralysed body and I slip into its thoughtless cycle. My blood is darkening with age, but I am still not seventeen. Curdling nightmares are my pain, and ignorance is no ease. The poisoning of every vein, it bulges, trying to escape. It wants not to be a passage for the cruelty I was going to face.
Blackening soul and its blackened, resembles tar. It's on my eyes, my body, and taking over my organs. It's pulling me into its emptying cave and it's preparing all my nights, it's predicting that my plights of which are selfish, which are cursed and impure will engulf all the light, and so I sit and cry. I think of all the worst nights, worsen what I feel and take away the pain with damaging ways.
Cleansing my lungs with perfume, to hurt the throat so I cannot curse you again. Putting myself in pain because it will stop my brain in its course of making you an illusion of which I am betraying, my heart is feeling faint and it no longer wants to venture into the wisps of poisonous smoke, of poisonous life, and all of its thoughts of the ethers.
It's sickening and sinister, I cannot administer my medicine and I need to retrace to my younger state, because my body's tiring and I am becoming an exoskeleton of who I wish to be all over again. Cure me poison, let me breathe you, take my sins and wash them in the pain. Stab me, push me, into the salt as I am a living wound that's opening with every evil thought I take, and I deserve the plunging blade in my chest.
Yet, I still want the pure silence to take me into an embrace so my creator can again meet me and tell me I'm the worst, or comfort me in my pain and hurt. Pulsating less and less is my organ and I am to disappear into dust, and darling it's okay to go on without me because time commits the sin that I want. You blame me in my wrong doing but I say that my punishment was over soon, so I simply became a catalyst to my demise so that you can recover without me, watching over, looking at you, suffering because you don't know me.
You're better now and so I must go to retrain my thoughts to never remember you, but that is crucifixion's pain and so I made myself the pawn in a demon's play. Don't worry about me, my soul isn't weeping as it's reached its point of recovery in the silence of death.
The silence of death, the kiss that stops the organ in my chest. It is relief, and I am solely to blame so don't you try to care about me. It wasn't just to end the pain, it was to see you smile again without my blackened thoughts coming to try and take your smiles away, because all they want and know is pain. The angel in me ended the way so they couldn't come across your path and place the nightshades on your street. Is peace about the ending of pain in my soul that aches or is it also pleasing both you and me?
Darling, I'm gone. Don't wake me, I need to get over my piercing sins. Dearest angel of the darkness, take my care and let it disappear into the moon. I don't want to miss and I don't want to look and I don't want to cure someone else's pain, so let me decay, leave this pain and let me slip away into the grave. Yet, don't remove my care entirely. Let me care to this soul as I yearn to rest.
© Sincerely, ♡ - June 2023
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My Guts Create A Tapestry - Poetry
PoesíaThis poetry is strictly copyright, it's all written by me. These poems tend to be written sweetly so you could be reading the most gorey poem and it'd be like it's romantacised. I don't try to romantacise them, it's the way I write. You'll possibly...
