The frozen, welcoming breeze,
A burn, It cuts so deep,
A wonderful feeling I assure.
A sun rises east, But I am west.
I feel the warm sun, it touches my face,
Glass needles enter, erupt and callus.
Deterioration, Cancer; O which I embellish.
The sun is an alter ego, a façade
Of which I am all too familiar with,
A most unique affiliation.
One which I detest,
Yet somehow,
The teeth that bite down are disguised with familiarity.
A familiarity that is unfamiliar,
A lustful contradiction.
Bleeding out of me is truth
The blush of bruises, shine, O how they shine,
divines bless the blue and purple with worried looks.
All I have to give is a middle finger,
They call it excuse.
I call it execution.
Abandonment is my shelter,
And I derive only hopelessness from hope.
I revel in the demons that penetrate my
heart,
mind,
and soul.
There it is again,
the breeze,
whisking me away,
away to a land of lost-forgotten,
but reaffirmed with memories.
I remember.
Wish me luck.
As I go into the depths and despair of my hell.
Ah yes, the sun.
It glistens with agony.
