What is the point in dying young
When I need to set fire alight
To and from my mouth for my Garnet
And my red candle.
Some people emit death and print its currency
Well before it exists in their life.
Many people are death's suppliers,
But I am still alive,
Little love heart in the sand,
Get rid of me.
You have put it off for far too long.
The innocent don't kill
So please come and finish me off.
Haunting alive is so unfulfilling.
You are only a sacrament in your head.
Who else did you think you were?
I used to say it was like art
Since I never knew if art was empathic or just cold colours.
Living creating, hanging and leaving.
Paint dries like love shouldn't interrupt it.
You can't possibly breathe under all of that.