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“A bullet For a Kiss”

Death rides shotgun down this highway of pain and suffering. This cold and hot fever is a punishment that I had brought down on myself. As I can feel the barrel of the gun as it's pressed against my temple. My reaper shouts for me to drive even faster and it is then that I see my wall. The hopeless reminder that we are all simply running in circles.

Ashes in the wind, as there is no control. The ultimate con, the ultimate illusion. There are no laws of physics within the minds of mankind. Driven by instinct, driven by passion we build our egos to mold our personalities. We are the hell beasts that devour the innocence. We are the creatures ruled by our hearts, our emotions. We can be majestic and divine, able to reason and to understand or we can be evil and sadistic, inflicting unspeakable acts of cruelty.

My thoughts have taken me through the ringer. Conflicted within myself which has caused me to relapse once again back into the arms of my sweet addiction. Always follow your heart right? If I had listened to my heart I would have ended up betraying my own personal promises and once again hearing the seductive whispers in my ear calling out my name. I would like nothing more then to close my eyes and fall back into her velvet bliss, the beautiful ecstasy of the mind numbing ignorance. I would sell my soul once again to be caught within that angel's glance. Even for the pain of realizing it could never last. Better to have been forgotten in a world where love fades far too soon. Then to have never been known by another soul.

Going insane with these repeating thoughts; A bullet or a kiss. The grand irony to an already cluster fuck of a life. How much more could I possibly have to endure before I have that breakdown? When all the bullshit just becomes way too much? Feeling like the fool as I still desperately try and cling to the hope that somehow, someway it will all work itself out. That maybe one day there will come a time when I get one issue solved and there would not be five more creeping up like a bad rash.

~ ~ Midnight Addendum ~ ~

If I could claim a true fear, and not just some phobia. The kind of fear that causes your legs to become frozen. Too scared to run they become lead pipes attached to the ground. Too scared to scream, finding your words evaporating as they gurgle from your mouth. The kind of fear that could give an old man a heart attack.

The line has become blurred, obstructed. Blending into a nightmare of hellish gray. A constant struggle to figure out what my moral compass should dictate. So my fear would be the vicious nature and the constant reminder of a bullet rattling around in my brain pan. Irony to be had as I once again declare that I have no death wish, I am not suicidal. That persistent thought however could contradict even your own belief.

“I think about death, as much as an addict would about meth.”

Why must I endure this constant torment? Why must my mind take me down this road of insanity? Where my own death takes center stage, among all others in my head even surpassing that of vicodin. Most of all why the martyr syndrome to my own suicide plot when there would be no glory to be had?

As I stand before the mirror I see not my reflection. A stranger in the echo who picks up the revolver placing the cold barrel within my mouth. Solo Russian roulette only all chambers are loaded. I pull the hammer back and the last few thoughts that were to be had will die in my head as a sudden pop would be all that is heard. I see death, in the reflection.

I feel so tired anymore. Rarely finding the passion that is the mystery of life. I have always entertained the thought of just giving up. It's never been about my suicide. An act of a miracle should it ever happen. So why am I constantly plagued by them? Eating a bullet, or eating a pill. A devils true advocate to a man's broken heart.

“I am falling apart, coming undone at the seams.

Caged in this lie built on the ashes of your dreams.

Slay the beast, or admit that you are weak.

Watch my decent into darkness.

Face to face with your devils and demons.

Falling from grace into disgrace

as you wage war against your temptations.

It's hard to see the moments

when your humanity shines through.

In that second I can see potential in you

Wolves. Sheep. Puppets on a string

shackled to fear; to the heavens we sing.

Where one positive thought counters a thousand negative ones

Wars resolved by the barrel of a gun

Then wonder why I see a bleak outcome.”