"Why is a rose, just a rose?" I asked her when she said, "This beauty, this thing, why is it a thing, thing of beauty, a thing of lust?" She could not answer and I could not tell why, it was not all that of an extrapalation when I asked, but she just seemed simply baffled by the thought at trying to explain. Beauty found in this thing of lust was an undescribable, unexplainable taboo for her. She began to cry and I wondered aloud, "Why is it that you cry?" And she responded, "It - simply - is, because it is." I was almost annoyed with such an answer, how could tears be explained so simple.

And she killed herself that night, she was the greatest love of mine. Her body was my eyes, favorite candy to toy and though I know it was not my fault, I never got to say goodbye, or tell her how much I loved her, I only saw her cry. She cried moonlight and starlight and colors ever so bright, but still I wish it wasn't the way I remembered her. Her flesh was creamy smooth and felt like silk on the tips of my, hands and tips of my, fingers. And I'll never forget her smile and how she breathed in and breathed out, how our lives seemed like they would go on forever. Never again would I know such love, and find it blasphmose to even fathome such a thought and the rot she's in makes me sick and queezy and I'm vunerable to the thought of the worms that dine on her tonight and it's comforting to wrap myself in the thoughts of her warm dieing memory. Her smile, oh her smile it would make the angels swoon and tempt fate itself. If only she could come back even for just a while.

Dreams, are these useless thing? These collections of subconscious wantings, these collections of these great wantings. Things to return, but ever do because the time has already past and the fable cannot last and to my dismay the ending may not, was not, happy ever after. My lover killed herself and I may never truly know why, I can only pondered and never truly know and what is there to show, but lost endevours and mazes that I'll never ever know. I'll only have this lamenting memory of requiem doings that I feel I did, but not responsible for. Torn in half, life cut back, just a lack of things, experiences I wanted so badly to know, but never will - never will. And this lingering thought of, where is my adventure to go?

I can't venture on, out into this cold world where all I have is lost, and what I had rots on the door step of the devils home. My eyes keep me up and sleep no more do I at night, because nothing, nothings right. My head's in this tight ball of rubberbands and I'm stuck to these lost lands of never wantings and I stand till my knees are weak and the pain over takes and it all lets out and I crumble to the floor and the pieces are shard glass. I'm to weak, with out you, with out her, I flutter through the air on these senseless wings of weak things that weren't ment to last. Past is all I have and I wish it wouldn't last, and now that's not to say I want to forget, but I feel it's time to move on, but I just can't because of the things which have happened, won't allow. How could this have happened to such a pure love as that of which we had. Bad, sad thoughts, I'm in this horrible cycle and I'm drowning, but just want to be let out, but for whatever reason I can't because - I - can't. I can't let her go, can't let these petals fold onto and over each other, withered away is simply not an option, but there's no rain here so I find it hard to keep the memory alive because now it's feeding off of me and now it's killing me, slowly, very slowly. Each day I die a little more inside, and I can feel consciousness slipping away, fading away, and not even all the dollar bills or pounds of gold could pay to get her back.

This story is unraveled and unfolding, it's only simply begun, I know because, I know, even though I'm dieing, it will never allow me to pass on and pass back to her. My eyes are closing and tomorrow I will wake up and wish I had died, and every morning goes on and I awake with this same notion of, "Just let me have died last night or even right now, this morning, before the sun arises and I have to fight on . . ."

Live Too Die