The earth, the water, the hopelessness, the prayers.
God in it's self centered environment, he or she would never care about you or me. You'll walk the streets thinking about the past, present, and your inevitable future of the purest form, forming in your mind the horror of the desperate world enveloping all that surrounds you with it's dark, immense embrace of forlorn jealousy. Realsm of emotion, open portals of ghosts, ghosts of the living memory, they will always live in your brightest most holy dreams of salvation and heaven. No heaven or angel will ever, never ever save you from the sorrow that has bestowed on you by who but all that cursed you over and over. I wish I could be with you without wishing you could be with me, knowing that wishing you with me would never be a wish I would ever want to wish that you would want to be with me wishing you were with me wishing. I tear through your deepest wounds hurting you the way you hurt me, darling, sweet love of eternal death. I prayed that we would go on and on, forgetting how the world really wove it's way around us, seperating you and me from each other's reality. I played the part so well, hearing it replayed ack to me never sounded better.
I cred the last tear for the most beautiful person. Now I long to be ever in your arms, feeling the cold touch of your skin on mine, the dead death of slow, painful consequence of judgemental sin.
Soon, always, be here.
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