Friday, October 20, 2006

Dear Death,

So this is where you draw the line, a breath further from your hand clamped around a cold and lifeless throat. And my head was so heavy, washed in all the confusion; but I can't deny how sexy you looked with your eyes glowing in hatred, and the way your determination never faltered until every wisp of breath had been wrung from his body. And I have to wonder how many dreams have been shattered by such seemingly delicate hands.

And I think it's kind of cute how you always chase your tail in all of this. It's exhausting just watching you trying to keep up with yourself. And I'm not sure what it is about you, that I just can't keep my eyes off of you. And every pass you make leaves me seething in my cynical world where revenge is only a single thought away. But despite all your little oddities you still manage to bore the hell out of me.

Time moves so slow here. Sitting only two breaths away, we engage in our wordless conversations that express more then words ever could. Our sanity deteriorates the further we pry into the other's mind; and it's amusing that I know things about you that you don't even know, but I'm frightened that the reverse is also true.

But I've grown so tired of you questioning me; and this relationship held together by fear alone. And I know we both wonder what we're still doing here. I guess it's that attraction of like minds. But there's no one we hate more than ourselves; so I only hate you that much more for being a reflection of myself.


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