i guess your hatred just erected on everybody.

the sandman choked on his own sand, gagging and vomiting out more sand.
to think that i was more into the lives of the dead.
sometimes i think that my thoughts about you are just dreams that i get when i go to sleep, a deep sleep, more like being dead, all cold and lifeless.
i`ll stop the reaper from taking your soul. you`re so precious to me. i treasure you like the presents i get whenever i turn a year older.
slit my throat, gasping for air, the torture of a near death experience.
it all turns to a memory. a memory where i just elaborate and exaggerate, but will eventually fade, like the aurora in antartica. looking so beautiful yet so scarce.
i wanna touch your fingers. stubby and chubby, i can guess.
the living dead doesn`t respect the living. it happens all the time. that`s why the living are part of their main meal.
as i said, the bartender won`t give me a lime daiquri, eventhough i threatened to strip him and sell his innocence to the senior citizens.
screw him, bitch.

THE AWESOMELY FUCKING END.

; platinum.