I’ve been watching you for over an hour
Studying every curve to you
The few bites of food you take
Every cigarette you light
Every cigarette you expertly inhale
Your newly acquired mannerisms
Laughing with your new friends
...
Your perfect smile awaits my eager fists

Consciousness is an appalling obsession headed for experience
Gone astray from all my existent associations
Buried implications within nothing I carve
Interpret alone and discern the unaffected me
Preserve dependence on cerebral traffic
It’s possible I am just a liar

I don’t even know where to begin
Possible I should start at the end
Where we are old and dead
Or at the very least lying on our death bed
Talking of our fond memories

Maybe a voiceover for the scenes of our laments
And flashbacks of the lives we lived

Did we do well in our deeds
Did we do badly in our mistrusts
Did we do all that we could do

Or did we just sit at home
Watch television as time passed us by
In cruel shades of silver, black, and white

What do we talk about
In our final moments
In our final breath

Do we pronounce our undying love

Or do we finally choose not to
Ignore our revulsion that festered in our bellies
Like growing infants long passed the due date

I choose to think
We’d speak of adoration
Because in this world
There’s already too much loathing to bear
And not enough love to dwell

Or maybe we do speak of the abhorrence
The contempt that never seemed to die away
From that first moment of infidelity
To the last shouted “I love you”
Shouted during one of those great big
Silent fights that we were known for

Suppose we spoke of both love and hate
Talked and narrated the past many years
In the few moments that we both still continue living

Our dying eyes gazing into the others extinction
A feeling of panic then euphoria overtakes us

And in our last gasping, final breath
I think I’ll tell you
That no matter what our history has produced
There’s no one I’d rather die with
Than you

Scalped and peeling skin of ****** laments
Broken hearted suicide at three am
The early waking dawn of last night’s tragedy
Carved into verminous veins
Scathing with golden luxuries of contempt
Slown moon shivers
Negating passive pretenses momentarily eclipsed in a sea of blood
Bathed in the shallow light of the mirror
Our reflections burn brilliant hues of stygian darkness
**What remains buried is unclear

She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
Caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew

He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky