I'm dead but I'm alive. Abandoned like a broken doll, collecting dust upon a shelf. No one wants to notice me. No one wants to play. I cling to life, and yearn for death - nightmares come alive, needles crushing against the skin, while the sharp blade before me calls out my name. My sweetest release. I seek answers to life's questions. Questions and prayers remain unanswered. Sanity spirals out of control, writing suicide notes like crazy. I'm illiterate, maybe even blind. With the breath of muse inside this painful soul, numb to the dark, I linger in the cob webs, surviving by my own imagination, stalking like a creature of the dark. Soaring through clouds on silent wings of my celestial spirits, corrupted and consumed by this wicked pleasure. The sexual sceances of a never ending passion as kingdoms come.