I seem to have recurring obsessions, patterns that never want to leave me be.
The taste of blood in my mouth,
the sensation of my skin breaking under any violent action.
Shocking realizations that shatter the soul and provide a sensation of fully grasping the meaning of ideas that are intricately impertinent.
Simply said; i hate being in love, i love being in pain.
It is like being in a chase that weakens everyone involved.
Like a monstrous train, running its course with only an imminent crash as final destination.
Then death; living, breathing, functional death.
Emptiness, the lonely melancholiac whisper of a lullaby.
A mantra chanted to your inner child.
That one cheated by trauma.
It brings me back to needles and hemoglobin filled tubes.
Cancer is a demon, love is a cancer, sex is love, and demons are sex.
Insanity, fuck love.
No greater pleasure for me than the one laced with extreme pain.
I chase you and others chase me.
Forgive my train of thought.
Electric Scars and Flesh Lights 