I have just learned
That when someone says

I love you

What they really mean

Is

I'll love you until I want
To be with someone else.

That's when the excuses
Make themselves known.

Don't pull away.

I want to keep you
With me.

My heart, burning.

Why aren't your
Eyes
Wet?

Don't pull away.

Going down the stairs

Into the night

Into freedom.

In your room
I sit
Quietly

On the bed
With your smell around me
And my eyes fill

And overflow.

(I'm not even part of you now.)

I'm a blank spot
Where there was once
A person to love.

I'm a mistake.
A bad one.
Go away, Jesse.

Move on,
Because I did.

I know you did,
But I can't,
And I may not.

Hello, Barbie.

Corner of University and Fuck Me.

The edge of your life,

Chipping away.

The chisel.

It’s ending,

One drunken text message

At a time.

There’s no life

In what you do.

No love, no happiness.

Only pink shoes

And used condoms.

I don’t think I know us anymore.

Who are we now?

You and I?

Skeletons?

Blood spilled?

Obliteration incarnate?

Who are we now?

Blood and muscle and bone

Contained in separate packages?

Oh sure,

Parts of us combined.

Our hearts, for example.

But who are we now?

I don’t think I know us anymore.

I wonder if I ever said your ( Read more... )

Just get into your fucking car

And back out of the driveway

Away from me

Standing at the door

Holding my gaping chest,

My heart pooling blood

On your passenger seat.

You bastard.

Well, After much thought, I've decided to return to this profile with my new poetry, and my known audience. I hope and trust that what readers I may still have will enjoy my new work as much as they did the old. It's a new style, but it speaks the same. And if you don't... FUCK YOU BITCHES! Lol.

Hello! Most of you know me as Se7en Black, and have not heard from me in a pretty damn long time. But after much wandering across the net, I've decided that LJ is the best way to post my work. However, this "empire" I once had has fallen. It's in ruins. And besides, it no longer represents me. I don't even use the name Se7en Black anymore. This won ( Read more... )

So we sit.
I don't remember

Who picked the phone
Up first

To call the other.

But here we are.

So say something.

Anything.

Because I can't do this.

We can't exist this way.

My hand is a bed of needles
Against your face.
But we can't go back from here.

This is all we know
Of the old life.

If you'd like future udates on me, my poetry, and of course, funeral boy, go here:

www.funeralboylives.wetpaint.com

and if you want to be part of a real paranormal research society check out:

www.thecreepslive.wetpaint.com

Keeping my presence afloat here and on myspace is a losing battle because it's not a real website of my own. I'm taking the ( Read more... )