The Trial...

'I have been guilty of kicking myself in the teeth'.

Some more meaning, now I find myself, out of touch, out of mind, in like, serious like, light another cigarette, inhale the pain away.

All I write is stream of consciousness, running down the river, waiting for her to return, her own private hell, a requiem for a dream existence, no reason to be sad eyes burning in the sun (I feel like and screaming should be next).

Where is she? I killed an insect, scratching on my screen, unable to write, my fingers turned to toes once.

I can't stand without her there, she's my new crutch, sit back down, retard girl. A reputation unwanted, deserved, where did she sleep last night?

She's pretty on the inside. If she didn't make me want to die, would I want her? Would I want to chew for her, cradling as she rocks? Busting down walls?

My life of silent screams makes more sense when she's bringing darkness towards me. I'd want to be there, if only there was nobody else. If I was only given the chance, I'd lie with her forever, alone, going nowhere, even taking two steps back, but it'll never happen like this.

I'd count backwards from infinity, if only I could reach her. She makes me feel like I'm young again. When I didn't feel a hundred years old. When I didn't need to be Dorian Gray. But I want to take a knife to my chest whenever she leaves.

It's been two days. Again. Time flies by.

Absence makes the heart resentful,
Free the grudges rest.
Absence makes the heart grow faster,
I never requested a test.

Internal rhyming, assonation, unrecognizably word.

If there's nothing I can do for you (I'll chew for you), let me down before I die.

I will die for you if you ask me, babe. A new band, an old flame, burning out, full of references and dirty slate.

There's nothing I can do that's good enough for you.

The trial continues.

And screaming.

Yours, on fire.