My hand around your mouth
as you gasp for air...
Through a paintbrush, a story is told
With each stroke and each touch...
Darkness is my home
loneliness my secret pain...
To walk amongst the foolish and weary
Tired bodies of beloved mine...
Cold unknowing hands press against my lower back,
A soft sigh escaping my trembling lips...
I wish that she could see
What she really means to me...
I'm sorry I was late,
I had to go slice some deadly cards...
They visit my dreams and hopes
teach me to desire so that i can cope...
I look deep into your eyes.
I force myself to focus on you...
Bodies did leave that dark alley way as the crime...
Horrifying screams from the long forgotten area...
Choosing fiction from reality is but a dangerous...
A dream from which you will not wake...
Twisting and turning
Spindly black...