Late September/Early October

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I thought you were dead, but you were only asleep as you bled profusely in my arms. And blood was a metaphor for all the hurt you were feeling as I cried over and over how much I loved you, and how sorry I was that I hurt you over and over again. I know you didn't cry, but I'm sure you felt pain, and you didn't make a sound as I cried. But you always forgive me, and I do it again.

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The littlest things seem to make me so mad lately - a forgotten phone call, someone touching's so unnatural. It just makes me want to scream and scream and scream until my throat is raw and I'm choking out blood into pale palms as rain drips down my forehead.

But I don't understand. Is it a mental disorder? Am I slowly going insane? I just feel like you have no time for me anymore. I'm blinded by rage when you forget me. You seem so callous.

Is rage an inbred human emotion? You make me so angry, but I love you to death, and you're so goddamn nice. Why are you so nice!? You make me want to scream, so I do. I *do.* I scream a lot, and it hurts.

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dyr nakinn ber a mig/og banker upp a frelsari/staminn setur i ny batteri

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Did somebody take your tongue? In worries of the world that you couldn't say if they could've saved them from, but I don't want to sleep without so I bid to you goodnight, tonight, sleep tight, my love.

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How can you make me so mad so early in the morning?

How can you make me want to scream so loudly?

Then you're implying that it's my fault

As you prance around my legs like a whipped puppy?!

My body hurts from the screams echoing inside for you

My knuckles are scratched raw and red for you

And I hope they bleed so I can feel better.

This is not my fault, so stop shooting me those glances.

If looks could kill, you'd be dead and I would live,

Though I'm not quite sure how long.

Right now I feel as if I could rip your throat out

And lick the blood as it pours out,

But I love you too much and I never wanted to hurt you.

The fact that you do hurt makes me hurt, and

I just want you to know that I will bleed for you if it lessens your pain any.

I never meant to leave you like that but you make me so angry.

I never meant to hurt you but I just don't want to lose you.

I'm so sorry.

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early September.

such a warm, bright sun framed by green-gold leaves. sunshine abound. hate the sun. burns the eyes. hate the sun. bleaches hair. I'm no blonde. So dark.

late September.

still hate the sun? framed by grey-blue clouds, now. love the clouds. block the sun. hate the sun. burns the eyes. love the clouds. bring rain to sing and dance.

early October.

sky so piercingly blue. leaves fall in warm colors over dying grass. iridescent. pumpkins perched. love the fall. love the leaves. sun is gone. so dark. the world is dying.

late October.

blackest night. scary, scary. feel the fury. play with demons. feel their fire. watch the glow. love the glow, the fire. love the fire as it burns into


love you, hate you, the sun, burns, leaves, pumpkins, glow, demons, fire, color, rain, dance, sing, clouds, hate, sun, bleach, not dark.

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Sleep is not the absence of thought, more an absence of body, and in those absences, you grew ever more poisonous. My conscious mind could not have you, so it conjured up images of your pale skin in dreams. There, it was free to have you any way it pleased, and it took delight in the way you struggled.

Your breath was an addiction I could not stave. I thought if I had you once, I would be satisfied. I was not. The only way for me to love you is to have you again and again and again.

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October has never been this beautiful, but it still went, surpassed in beauty, by you.

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