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Wednesday, February 27, 2008

It hurts like silk on an open wound.
Gentle, innocent but the pain.
Pleasurable almost sadistic, really.
It hurts.

Are u listening?
Do you get it?
Still not contented.
Never will be.
Till this silk cut it open.
And let it run dry,
When there is nothing left.

No nothing, nothingness.
What a beautiful word.
Absence. No beat, no voice.
There is melody
Filtered by a screech.

Feels like an alarm went off,
And it goes on and on and on and on.
Used to it, really.
Fucking used to it.

Till it stops twitching.
Stops feeling.
What do you want from me?
There is nothing left.
Nothing else to take.
Nothing else to give.

Just leave me alone.
Solitude freaks me out.
I change my mind.
Stay.

But.

Argh.

Forget it, Mum