Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

he hits the inevitable wayward point.
travesty and tragedy, there's no going back and the page is nearly full. i've got a story with no ending and i'm running on nothing.

absence. the prime addiction, the obsession, the spiraling downward road ravaged heart yearn. it's not a matter of knowing. it's a matter of getting out.

so i'm tearing and thrashing and clawing and screaming and my heart is pounding and my blood is seething and i'm nothing, nothing, i'm nothing that will ever show but in the limelight of pallor existence and dolls lined up on too dusty shelves. i've got the steady pulse of sickness buried in my bones and seeping through my marrow is the sadness blossomed full.

so i crawl forward in the dank and vile aftermath of my own soul's destruction, broken fingers sifting through the remnants of lives lost, and all i want is a moment's peace and to forget the animosity of my own heartbeat. so save me.

but all you want to do is own me.
pristine porcelain smiles to placade your endeavors. i'll make you feel good.
do i make you feel good?

so measure my worth in a hypodermic. i'll be the suicide drug and you be the voice that resounds in my ears. shoot me up, drink me down. i never had a life anyhow.