God, I know enough that you love me,
but my wicked-ness, will never save me.
I've been the chaos and the storm,
Its too late to save and be reborn.
I've hurt the young and vulnerable,
I have no love that is salvable.
I never laid a hand on a child
But I did release the hale,
and verbally rocked the cradle.
It made me sick to my stomach,
There's nothing worse than this.
I honestly can barely sleep
until my brother of my keep
can get me diazepam pills,
They destroy all my hills
and numb this nasty will.

The doctor doesn't feel sorry,
and I admit neither do I.
I'm taking up a bed
for torturous threads,
and I'm trying to die,
while those in waiting
feel so much hurting.
He tells me of my liver,
News I wanted him to deliver,
This world is black and dead.
I will refuse another liver,
and my grief has not been said.
As I create and lay in my bed,
This world is purple poison
and my blades are still pouring
with enemies I have long bled.
But no joy or such happiness.
It makes me sick of who I became,
And the sickness has ruined my name,
and madness created my wicked game.

I'm poisoned,
under-neath,
a derelict,
bridge,
of breaths
wishing
for death.
A feast
No crest,
Another body
Timelessly,
endlessly.
How to be happy,
Only the fingers,
can erase my frown,
as I take to being
so drowned.

She dances around the apple tree,
as Adam watches her innocent beauty
Naked-ness but with no seduction
They are both free from a shameful tease.

There's an apple that she can't resist,
The temptation of such the delicious
She decides no harm to take a bite,
And when she does comes the blight.

Sin is born and their bodies become shameful,
They cover themselves with leaves and trigs.
And seduction is born to lust as born to passion
And their bodies become sinful as the rain drips.

The wetness of Eve's lovely skin and her hair,
and green eyes is more than Adam can bare.
Such beauty and the virtue of this ******
He wishes as before his eyes couldn't see.

What I'll do to take away,
the last 6 months of my life.
Was I born a beast astray,
A bird without flight?
I'm sick of darkened days
the bloodied of the knife.
I wish it had been my holiday
forever a ghost to future ways.
I'm a demon to all the rife,
I'm not proud of things I say.
I can no longer even cry,
I have become one who slays.
My hands of red I don't like.

I did underground fighting in my twenties.
I wasn't one for fists but two machetes.
The rules were you could only slice,
without damage such as their eyes.
Stabbing was out-lawed as blood would fly.

I could somersault and twirl around,
I would tire opponents that were bound.
The rule was just one slice for the victor,
I took it easy on the losers with a tiny finger
simply, a little bit sliced not needing stiches.

I only did it for the money and my demons
but truthfully not the blood was my intention
Just the fame and a win with just one slice
They called me The Machine, kinda nice.

Someone once said to me, to live forever,
You have to be a warrior or a writer.

I wish I could erase the thumping,
when I go to hospital of the beats.
I get in immediately,
in a  wheel chair.
I feel sorry for the patients,
In the horrible corridors
that didn't abuse their bodies
like  it wasn't fair.
167 beats a minute,
taking my blood,
and an xray.
The pain below my heart
I can always feel with a finger,
is my liver that's being destroyed.

I hope it will be soon.
I never wanted to live
past the age of fifty.
I will and I will refuse
A new liver to survive.

I just want out of here.
This world was built of fear,
but I feel nothing but for the children,
who will have to live like hens.

And who knows but I know.
and it ******* kills me.