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#1
10-13-2006, 08:08 AM
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Syndrome
The suicide ghost
The bullet wound Still dripping, still dripping Is afraid of the nurses It's okay, she says Over here, over on this side The other side of what Dull edged razors Can still cut It's all etherial Can still cut But the blood is Is still real still Real still red Still She's afraid Of the nurses The communion of the mad One cup of synthesis Pills, red, blue, white One cup to push them in Water two parts chlorine One part ash White washed walls No colors to abstract the mind To tease the thoughts No movement of our machines I sawed my arm With the Queen of spades While no one was watching Will the man in the johnny Babbled in Jesus about Salvation I drank cardboard orange juice While a man in white Asked me in chicanery If I was okay If this was okay Are we okay today, miss? My lips were lying While the battered body Of the Queen of Spades Lay silently on the floor She wouldn't speak for me Nor would the others win Solitaire Is this scary enough I ask you now This momemnt When you're confused Will she? Won't she? The gun under inside the burreau The sun over the ocean The drive down to the limit Or the drive down to the limit Is this scary enough The thoughts that lie behind you Around you The things that you can't see The urges and impulses The ghost of the suicide Her voice reassuring It doesn't hurt You can do it again And again Release
__________________
By the time you're twenty-five they will say you've gone and blown it. By the time you're thirty-five I must confide you will have blown them all 
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#2
10-16-2006, 12:56 PM
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lovely
people don't use the word "chicanery" enough:)
__________________
"Little, vicious minds abound with anger and revenge, and are incapable of feeling the pleasure of forgiving their enemies." Earl of Chesterfield "A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well." Francis Bacon
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#3
10-22-2006, 04:28 PM
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*Dons Elvis voice* Ahhh thank-ee...thank-ee vury much.
Nah...it's a venter. I just put it here 'cuz I never write anything here, mainly because I never write anything dark.
__________________
By the time you're twenty-five they will say you've gone and blown it. By the time you're thirty-five I must confide you will have blown them all
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