Aravelle

The monster in me is waiting to coil itself around the monster in you [it lashes and curls itself around my insides] and when it bellows it screams and I feel its echoes [through the rush of my blood and the thump of my heart] inside me.

paint my world with colour and music fill the silence with something sweet. or better yet take me on a rocket ship to your world with painted ladies and silken clothes where the weeds grow free and everyone's got diamond teeth take me to the world where the sun shines even at night and drugs are an ordinary thing take me to your world, where my heart sings and you are the bass player the man behind the guitar the true star of the show. Take me to the place, where you and I can be together.

Lonely is something nobody wants to be, it's an ocean without fish or having vision with nothing to see.   It's a Taylor Swift song without an end; it's an invisible lover and angry friend. - Loneliness is an everyday sin and frankly, one I excel in.

Your body is my temple, and every tear shed is a prayer to you. I have no god but love, and all love pales before my god. I want to rot inside your skeleton arms on bloodred sheets, hide away from the world and let love be my crypt. I hear your song from so far away in time I read the stories of you and I I'm still so scared, my drug That you will never ever be mine.

We could have been wanted by each other, no longer haunted by the demons of this fucked up world but no. We lost worlds of happiness, sleepful nights shattered into nightmares. We could have been stardrops and moonbeams, the stuff of hopes of dreams but here I am alone with nothing but the festering thoughts and drunken memories of you.

Will you lick the salt of the seas from my brow, embellish the gifts the Lord endowed; will you take my hand when I am weak, stand for me when I am meek? Will you be what I'm living for tomorrow, will you be the new reason, why my blood sings? Will you be the earth beneath my feet, Or the water to my shore; A thousand things and nothing more? Be my song, make my burden light; will you be my blackbird, singing to me in the dead of night?

I am not strong. I am the crumbling temple, of an empire that was once so tall I am a creature of foul lineage the bastard daughter of Sammael drawing the lithium from your blood. I was never given a choice whether to live or die: I exist. My spirit is covered in sores, plagued to deal with the devils of my loved ones, carrying their balls and chains for a thousand miles: I am pathetic. It is said I have the strongest weapon, even that is a lie. My hands are calloused, my armor is aluminum, broken and rusted and I alone stand with rotting battle wounds in a field of ashen memories. I am not strong… No matte