Dried Roses Are As Dead...

You're lost in this world.

Oh the humanities. The dream, the laughter, the tears. A cry.

A cry for help, but no help to gain. Just a smile. A smile of inner wickedness. A dream of thruth, of lies, of thunder.

The crickets bow to the moonless sky where midnight blue thrones the emptiness. Worthless pearls of dew are the tears for tomorrow that no one has shed. Grass is cold and sharp under the bare foot as pale as the maggots crawling in the dead.

Nightingales sing and their song is forevermore.

Clouds are the foam of ocean waves that kiss the everlasting sands of Earth. Rising moon smells fresh and the fullness of it comes from some other world right next to us, hidden under an old rock that has seen the everlasting ice.

You can never go back as you come from nothing and go nowhere and haven't even moved yet. Smile with your broken lips, blood as sweet as balm drip-drip-dripping into the neverending night and your teeth are the colour of ivory.

The night is chirping nearer to the dawn but it will give you no peace of mind, no white doves, no herbs to ease the pain that hasn't been. The doves are all grey, the doves are all dead, the ravens picked out their blinking eyes, yes, everlasting as everything.

You'd turn into a werewolf now, but the magic is all long gone, all dead like the doves and dreams of love, because they rhyme.

So no howling to the moon, no running to the eternity, infinity, whatever, wherever, whenever.

-- Because you can't howl with your human mind, because you can't run with your human feet, you can't smell with your human nose... can't think with your human fucking soul!

But it's true -- the night never shows itself to you, because it doesn't believe you. Or maybe you don't believe It. No matter.

You still wear silver pendants, shaped like half-moon -- why do you ask yourself those questions then?

Throw away your human body.

Who'd tell?

Who's miss you?

Hah.

The world wont stop without you.

... right?