1. Memories, For, When I Am. (Being edited 2024)

Return to sender, said she.

I see you,

I curse you,

now running my knives through the wall

do you seek death?

for with me you have found it.

Answer slowly,

my patience is not a virtue

now that you see what you have done,

convincing the darkness to

slaughter you, the soul within, and play with

you, the cold corpse left behind, like a child does

with their new toy,

as you seep blood

and it is lapped up like wine

from a crystalline glass

because you dared to test it,

with limbs sprawled and spread incoherently

across tile and maple wood,

as it is found enjoyably enjoyed by I,

of your every last breath,

like the twisted psychotic smile of a person

I let lie dormant,

That I,

tend to become.

I know who you were.

You thought you could trust me not to snap 

at the thought of you,

when you were the one who broke wood,

expecting it not to ooze and crackle under your clenched fists,

like a needle falling to the ground that I catch

and lovingly erase of your tender gazing eyes from the pitiful

existence belonging of and to your face.

Because you wanted to hurt me.

Because you'd rather erase them.

Because she will allow me to,

If it means I will keep my sanctity.

YOU

are barking up

The wrong tree

to relieve yourself upon.

I guarantee your death not swift.

Killing you slowly inside

only later to watch the rot that has became of you

culminating in a pitiful sullen after existence

within a sorrowful, miserable, rotting pit

of flesh and blood,

where atop I will sit and watch in contented devious enjoyment

of your suffering as that is all I need and have never wanted more.

So if you like something

that I possess,

I do confess,

that you will be rendered dead,

set a sail the S.S. NO REGRETS,

So take me away,

other thieves disgust this thief.

so take your life and send it away

to someone somewhere someplace

and let it bleed out into a starved abyss of abysmal 

epitomized pain and suffering,

and like a book as a line your emotions would read

"Return to sender", he thought, "return to sender", said he.

Because you are

all talk  and no bite.

Cross me and I

guarantee

your last breath

on every whim you could have

ever thought.

I am the Hell

that you cared to raise,

as I am little talk and ALL BITE.

So if you care for your soul, that frame and its limbs,

allow me to not return my pain, our pain, their pain, the pain you gave,

to its sender,

Because people like me

STEP 

IN

To take the places of people

Like. you.

People like you,

Couldn't handle. anymore.

Allow me to make sanity within your heart and mind mine,

of it towards you, will not be needed anymore.

Returning might to its senders,

is what keeps me,

the lot of us,

sane.

Run along now, deary.

And don't look back for me.