time to go to hell

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Dienstag, Februar 24

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I decided to live, but I'm still dying, still rotting inside. Maybe it was too late, maybe that's it, maybe it was never my choice to make. I'm dying.

spat out by Ray at 00:03

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JUST TO GET A TASTE OF HEAVEN.

Struggling, screaming and trembling. The pain's too big. Everything burned, burned down. We choke on the dust of our own ash. Choking, coughing, springing up after air. Lungs filled with black powder from our own beings. Too late to be saved, we are writing the last words with our own blood. Smeared by the trembling. No possibility for the farewell remains. Taste of blood and ash hands in the notice of death. As he is, as he comes, as he always been. He's stretching his bony fingers after us. We retreat, but run into a wall. No way back. No faith. No hope remains.

EVEN HEROS HAVE THE RIGHT TO BLEED.

Can't hear your cries anymore. Numb. In the waves, suffocated, you are dragged along. Away, where? I want to follow you, hold you, jump afterwards, drag you out. Bound to myself, halted by the wall of insecurity, build on hate. Hate which isn't for you. This hate is mine. Cave in, be left. Feel nothing, only the cold, the emptiness. What remains? Your proximity: Never been there, or have I suffocated long ago? Can't hear your voice, can't see your words. Forget to understand, forget to think. The truth died, the promise broken. Only the snatch echos as loudly as the cries, only for me to hear. You're silent as death. You can't look away while everything cools off, slowly disintegrates. It rains dust on us. What was has burned, disintegrated, frozen.

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