Writings of Burgundy and Jade

The day is screwed,

Everything burns up and dies in pools of entrails.

The cancers and diseases spread to the mind,

Killing off cells,

As the thoughts begin to fall apart,

Slices and pieces missing,

Broken puzzles fall upon the floor.

Nothing is right,

It can't be changed,

The parts and shards are eternally gone,

Nothing in the ability to be fixed,

No cure or remedy,

Intestines festering in perfect skin,

Invisible to untrained eyes.

Pain and anger,

Mixing hatred as it boils in the heart,

That slowly shrivels and dies,

While happy eyes slowly become black voids of despair.

One more cut to add to numerous wounds,

Blood pours out,

Not finding a place of return as agony eats the body,

Physical and mental pain becoming one,

Rotting as everything in sight makes ugly dust.

Once green plants change from brown to black,

Then descending to the ground turning,

But before reaching it,

The leaves turn into nothing...

And no one cares.

Darkness lurks in the forest,

Bruising grass to black and crushing the soft earth.

Flowers shrivel,

Weeds thrive,

Whilst ash and elm swell in disease,

Smothered in death.

Blood drips down the glass of a broken beer bottle,

Which severed skin and bone,

Causing torture to a human life...

Still we are unknowing if there still is a life.

Nightmares casting shadows over dreams,

Discontentment spearing hearts of the living,

Anger snatching the spirits on deceased.

Only this can be wrought by a bringer of chaos,

Skewering hooks into skulls,

Bleeding minds dry,

Overwhelming in gloom and heartache...

Stare as grime turns to scarlet triumph.

Webs of scarlet capture damaged mentality and lifeless bodies,

As insects eat the victims,

And the sky glares red,

Reflecting as the dark cities fall,

Imploding with white gold,

Tarnishing from blood and rain,

That bears everything away in swift passing,

To the black forests and sewers,

Where bodies perish in darkness,

The smell causing sickness where it meets.

Children's eyes and thoughts becoming twisted when they shouldn't be,

Philosophy that causes them to scream,

Nothing to help,

Evil thoughts not to be undone,

Asylum filled with infants, innocent, and frail,

Soon to be uninnocent,

Because of the thoughts that haunt them,

While the prospect does not come.

They never stop their disturbances,

Because the demons never end them,

Excorcism more deeply corrupts...

And on the wall,

It's written in blood,

There is no remedy,

No cure,

Only the poison,

That never kills and never ends,

You shall be severed from your mind forever.

The little children scream at the body upon the floor,

Mangled in distraught schizophrenia,

Pools of blood lingering on the floor,

The cave echoing of the cries and sobs,

All revealed by torch-light...

You must go to the cave to find your answer.

Are the demons still infecting you like putrefying malady?

They whisper in your ears of blood and chaos,

Which they wait for you to commit,

All of the cells in your brain gone,

Your head screaming in pain,

But the evil spirits push you on,

Hiding you in the shadows from the cherub's touch,

In blue garb,

They wait for you in Eden,

Not the little children in the mirror,

They hold power,

The humans mutilated their image...

But the fiends will burn you if you go to the cherubim,

And will mangle you in likeness to the corpse in the grotto,

They wait for you to bleed dry,

As you write in green blood,

All shall die,

Inevitable is the consequence,

You sorely apprehend death,

Because inside you know whether not you go to heaven or hell,

Or if you shall turn to nothingness in a vast universe...

But you know you will all be damned,

It burns beneath your skin.

And you fester,

For eternity out of the hierarchy's reach...

Is that why you bled that night?

Because you knew you would die?

Maybe now you are a spirit,

Your body just a automation...

Though no one shall ever know.