Would you like to be my bride?
Splendid, i'll order the corpse tomorrow.
Perhaps there shall be bats, and black butterflies.
Perhaps a heart will wither and die,
but oh, what a joyous day it will be.
And oh, all the sad faces we will see.
I beg you to meet the end,
I beg you to sell me the moon.
Reach into your heart and rip out the strings of wolf.
There will be nothing but dust left,
you won't be remembered not even if you mechanically pulse forever.

I am wasted and wasting away.
I've been cemented within these walls
Pushing and pulling will-less air
Between pastel fading lungs and,
I stumble to dance awkward words
Off shattering porcelain lips.
To become an ornament is something else.
But to break your own heart with fear
Every waking moment, and every unconscious
Second of your life, is something more;
More difficult, crippling, punishing and bloodless
Than any deep, seeping wound.