Forty 8 curses

And with twitching, jittery hands i wrote these words to her.

Not a star will fall that i wont wish on.
Not a lash will be lost if not blown from my finger.
Never a tear will drop unless for joy.
Never a heart broken over a Man, Boy or Toy.

It was the last i wrote her. A message, a warning, definitely not a love song. My creative words, my dying pen, the last sheet of paper. Scribbled in my best cursive. Curses. Id mail it in the morning if id yet to have had sleep with in the past forty eight hours. Blast. Light a smoke, one last before bed. Should put me to rest. A bowl of food, an hour online, three sitcoms and im back at my desk. Square one.

(Untitled)

Five years you'll be missing,
Ill still be a sinner.
You've got so much going on,
I am not a winner.
You made my inhibitions disappear,
You've been my wish come true,
Thank the heavens for failings stars and you.

PO Box Dead

If given the chance id steal her heart.
Id steal her breath.
Take away all the joy from pain,
Giving her more.

Heartache, and thrillers
And anything i can think of
To make this something she might,
Regret.

She made the mistake
Of sending me written letters
I played this game
Called PO Box 109

And im bringing all sorts of hell,
On her head.
Writing sentences of what ill do,
When shes dead.

Never forget the way your lips felt

When its going so well i feel as though i need something to go wrong to make the good things feel right. As if i didn't know i'm never happy. The next lottery winner could be me and all id have to say is; "cool". Like i didn't already know i've no emotion for this. When i have something so good in my hands, in my arms, right in front of my fucking face. I wont see you tomorrow. Maybe no one will. A sad story we all speak of and assume no one else relates. Every one speaks of.

When you know what you want, and know you cant have it. That hurts the most. I'll never forget the few hours i spent. Driving, talking, blond haired lazy eye. Adorable. So unpredictable. I can think of a thousand words to say, but many artists have already sung them. Ill put that in a mix tape. Sign it, "Never forget the way your lips felt".

I've taken action. Planing my life strait. Paying people back. For once in my life i need to be serious about... my life. Good things will come to those wait. God i hope she does.

Mediocre Saint

I am but a sinner.
No fear of your god.
May your parents listen now.
I am still a good man.
But with out restraint.

When time has chosen me.
No burial,
Send me to sea.
Burn me,
Let my ashes smolder.
Thank your god,
It was only me.

I am but an honest man.
Never killed, never stolen.
I will still burn in hell.
Your lord has forsaken me.
Write me letters so ill know.
I wont see you down here.

Envisage

From the eyes, ears, lips and brain, of Madison.

"My name is Madam Madison. I'm a born and raised Tennessee girl who moved to Wisconsin. I love horror movies, and goth music, and tattoos, and piercings, and cute boys (with tattoos, and piercings), and my black kitty named Goth."

Are you fucking serious?!