I think about death a lot. I think about how beautiful it would be once it all ended. I am to weak to do what needs to be done though. So many conditions would need to met. I am so close though, so close to being free. I am already alone. I am a burden to everyone. My daughter needs a better mother. I am such a shitty friend.
I like hate. It aids in the process. One of these days I will be free.
I told my daughter I wanted to be a flower. They are fragile but powerful. I hope she will be ok when I am gone.
I hear voices but not what you think. More like whispers really. A buzzing that doesn’t really seem to stop. Almost like my mind is made of glass and someone is stuck inside of it. When it breaks I get locked inside. The voice is in control and boy do they love it.
It can hurt but it is a good kind of hurt. When I am in control is almost seems like it isn’t really me. I can feel things but occasionally it is the othet voice who feels it for me.
These voices are my friends and enemies. They do not want to hurt me but they do. They give me the best nightmares.
I know it doesn’t make any sense but it’s true.
These voice give me choices that leave me in dispair
Kissing her so slowly
Gripping her so close
Never held a body
After it decomposed
Faithless in the making
The dead makes such a pretty noise
Everyone is watching
But we are all alone
Dancing in the moonlight
My lovely bride and I
Making sweet music in the grave yard
10 years after she died.