Thoughts of a Loner.

His Beloved Knife. (By Sapphirus)

He sits cascading in the dimly lit room as the empty goblet of whiskey lingers,
Clinging onto his suffocated breath,
Survivor of hell caught between the heaven and hell,
His beloved knife in his hand,
Glinting and listening like his silent witness,

"Are you listening?,"

He whispers with an eerie smile as he licks the blade with passion,

"Hush, there there you can hear it all~"

His crimson eyes empty void of tears and desperation,
All the bridges burnt to dust as he stays stranded forever,

"Listen to the symphony of my suffering~"

"To the pleasant discord of my ripened despair~"

His beloved knife in his hand,
He glides the loving silver across his wrist,
Slitting the rough skin and drawing the bright crimson,
Trickle,
Trickle,
Each cut a living testament to his failure,

"I am a fucking phantom in every bond I make!"

"A living spectre of sorrow!,"

He wailed as the knife listened with intent,
Burying his very will and shackling him,
Shackling him in the false gold his life promised,
Hating his very smile as he scarred and scarred,
Slash,
Slash,
As the haunting memories of his "loving"'childhood flood back,
A torrent of torment as he wished the ocean to wash it away,
His father's "love" oh the paternal instinct,
His father's fists casting a cruel symphony,
His ribs the melodic keys of the piano,
Shattering,

"Do you remember the night he shattered my ribs?!"

He wailed,
As he became a purgatory of self blame and a prisoner,
To trauma and ancient regrets,

"Was I that bad? A simple argument and I suffered,"

A poster boy of defiance and rebellion,
"The fucking old woman, she tried to lift me, now where is she?"

The woman now resting in the moistened earth,
Her love and hope for him buried along with her,
The pendant of pain wrapped on his wrist as thorns.

His beloved knife in his hand,
His voice quivering with tremors of tears unspilled,
His soul tired of life itself,
Tired of his very existence,
Tired of his cruel soul,
Depression now the most loyal companion,
Loneliness the prostitute he felt embedded with each night,
Thrusting with longing.

His beloved knife in his hand,
Smiling back at him as she whispers in her captivating voice,

"End it, this cycle of endless suffering~"

Tears rolled down his eyes as he smiled,
His beloved has finally spoken and he shall deliver her judgement,
Whiskey soaked air scented and laced with rejection,
As he slit his wrist,
Caught in the purgatory of his own existence,
Blood dripping,
Yet he had a smile of contentment,
Nobody to listen to his inner wailings,
As he sat in the puddle of his own creation,
Caught between the blade and his own abyss,
His eyes finally empty.

~ Sapphirus