chewing on the prospect, of purposeful irony.

things are gonna get bad again..

Letter to Relate

November 4, 2011


However many times you leave me, love,

don't let the scars heal.

I ask that you,

no matter what you come to think of me,

never desert my open foyer.


I ask that you come back,

and bring with you fiery emphasis,

sinning in my liver,

tattooing on my wrists.


I ask that you remember me,

so that you can come back

every-so-often, to beat without sense,

so I can be without sense.


But you didn't need to hear me beg,

just watch the lies, you know them all.

Picking flowers, like the pins you pulled out of me.

I'm sinning harbours since you've left.

I'm counting seconds likes blessed beasts.

I'm harvesting moments to last me

until I stop eating.


But you always come back,

(you fucking monster)

chortling in silence of song,

snickering in sinking appeal.

I was almost there,

and I tried so hard,

so you could cut me down.

Down and out and above the clouds,

because it's so hard to breath down there

with you here.


If I let you take my place,

you promise,

to do as much damage as you can?