and left me questions
of my insanity
that believes I could be human
I won't be, I will always fail
The mango ginger plants are dying
I sit on a tile where my dearest dog died
I search for meaning in a folly
that the universe seems to toss at me
and
truth is just being a bitch right now
I know it hurts
my hurt spews laughter
unlike tears
this mask
I wore long before I wore a suit and tie
Those were terrible times
weak
and wishing for death
and now
death doesn't come
it fails me
Love seems to being more
deathwishes
I do not fight
for my derangement is total
all forms of me wish for a violent end
preferably dressed in violet
playing a violin, I hate violins
and then
such thoughts
of being something someone can hold on to
Sacrilege
heracy and such
But I respond with
"Hey, how can I help ?"
