Stitches

There’s no time for this rhyme or reason,

As time sets us apart for ages,

I want little more to deal,

Dwelling is not the cure for this cancer,

And time heals no hellish wounds,

I love this feeling,

A poison is coursing through my horrendous veins,

Taking its course before you take a sip,

Is there a point in this blackened maze,

For why you locked me here?

Does the stone walls within my being,

Not impress you enough?

Is there a knife here sharp enough,

To pierce the skin so dull,

Of which I’ve been cursed?

Might I take nothing from you,

When that’s all you give,

And use it properly to trip you,

Giving you the ride of a lifetime,

Which only ends in surefire pain.

Granted you have the medicine to take,

To drown the feelings.

And rivers are not fast enough to wash them away,

Before they mold your walls,

Have you desire of flesh or need of pleasure,

Such things lying ramped within age of nature,

Quite well known to the beasts of burden,

Such as them or I.

I take no joy in whom I fight,

Whom I prey,

Whom I touch,

For there’s little joy to be found,

In me,

Might they never know that they’re doomed

To be forgotten beyond the walls of a fractured mind,

That somehow suffers thought from so many sides,

Echoing about the folds within just waiting to be ironed out,

So that thought becomes a convention waiting to be exploited,

Like love or fun

There’s no reality in these words,

Only a sad truth,

That neither can be defined,

Beyond the term itself spit from the vile throats of men.

Might one try to define the reason in which I carry on,

Tell me what I am or why I should,

Before I break another seam,

The name itself judges the most,

Upon the frail bed of dreams,

That conceal blades, thorns, spines, edges most crimson,

That take the lives of the sleepers,

If I were fated to be one,

As a final request I have,

Please do it,

...It's About Damn Time You Killed Me!