If existence is merely acting on pleasure,
then what are the innocent if not an instrument of the "Illusion of grandeur" we call "Love"...
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Patience is a virtue that "If I possess",
is faint and nearly invisible to human eyes...
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The rantings of my dead spirit echo through your abscess heart;
a tavern in which only you could delight to live...
I scream, and my sorrows fill your empty cove,
feeding the walls with the sound of your betrayal.
How long will it be before you're hunger overtakes you again?
How long before you learn; remorse is never a satisfying dessert...
Soon I pray,
because my soul feeds on the forgetfulness of pain filled memories;
I long for beauty, but my only achievements are now empty frames and dust filled bedrooms.
Am I a prostitute to greed?
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