You twist my hands, and my mouth
kept still. Again and again.
Turning blue and purple, they are dying.
And I thought: Is this the way
holding hands feel?
Suffocating, and miserable,
I don't think this is right.

We stayed statuesque, out of sight
of crazed eyes, and my mouth kept still.
Vibrations stuck between the walls
of my throat. Under my mind, above my chest.
And your hands are still on my hands.
And now they're turning
into the early night.

This is how we die, you say.
Even nothing has been forged
into my memory. Your hands had killed mine.
Over and over, i cling to the possibilities.
And you let go when my hands are gray
walked back into your skin.
You are nothing but a murderer.

And this is how
I cannot go back to you. You are smart
I applaud you. That's the thing
anger is an impasse. As you are.
And now, i wonder
why I didn't think this before
**You were killing the very thing that i could hold you to keep you mine.

Six months on, and hundreds of offspring later,
She is much too languid to even move.

The listless queen bee is stung repeatedly;
Her own children have seemingly turned on her.

Once good and dead she is tossed from the nest.
Merciless? Or mercy killing?

I will leave you to decide.

What's the point of dying
If you only think of it when you're crying?
Life is hard, yes I know
And these thoughts and feelings will begin to grow
But these aren't the ways
You can't run for all your days
Life is beautiful, Death is comes for everyone
But in Death, you can't ever see the sun
For it should come naturally, too
Don't **** yourself if you don't love you for you

Getting fat
Off the ****
Jihadi gras

Enemy of the afraid
Terror of the tame
The privileged have you made
Into killers by name
If dying is your game

Too suspicious, skin too dark
your foreign tongue
Has made its mark

Bomb terror, bomb terror
Empathy to maim
Get your guns, weapon bearer
If dying is your game

Weighing lives against each other
Civil fear, where is your mother

If misused power lent you fame
then dying is your game

The words come flowing out  when the blood is boiling under.  That is when vengeance comes to rescue your soul
longing to fulfill our thirst .
I just want to strike him with my rage
and want to literally burn him into ashes just so that I can roll into those, deathlike corporeal ruins
leaving soul frenziedly lust of mine to satiate .
I want to hold some of his powdery residual remains
as the rest
just scatters by ;
staring at my ascendancy.
Till then let another par of anger pile up and
get that load off
with my bare hands ,
bathing in the
pleasant sight of his blood stains .
My vendatta would be eternally be lasting even in afterlife .
After all it is a fight of a soul to get his righteous stand someday and may that be by ,
                            
                             A
                        DEATH
                            OF
                           THE
                        OTHER
                          ONE

I am a cigarette on your lips
That you can’t stop pulling at
No matter how bad i may be for you
You do not care,
About the fact that I am slowly and very eagerly, killing you
You simply love the feeling
Of my lips burning so passionately against yours…