chrisisgod

Honey Dew Love (aka how i spent the weekend listening to much of Depeche Mode, The Cure, and The Smiths)

in the lowest depths in my shrouded room
the ghost of love mumbles
and there seems to be something of a truth
in those lonely whiskey whispers you speak...
specters slowly creep with gyrating hands
lost in a never ending dance
slithering towards my soul
breathing out self made lies
being both rock and sand, I sink deeper
tied down by phantom hands
letting my own mortality fill my lungs
pulled upwards and back down
born anew of gossamer and bliss
kissed by the recently departed
my eyes delicately shut trying to ignore the dance
as ethereal hands tear away scars
they dance and twirl
yelling invitations to join this black celebration
placing a blood-spattered crown on my brow
i slowly pull my self up
and drag my hollow corpse to the sink
crown gone; arms clean
familiar scars settled into skin
silence rips through my quiet breaths
and again I am alone
hearing only your whispers of drunken half truths
i reach around in darkness and press familiar numbers
leaving you this final message
if i were still with you
id slit around your throat like a bee
leaving honey flavored poison kisses