on the incineration of broken hearts♥March 29, 2004♥ prev/next♥
voices quiet as whispers invade the minds of innocent bystanders as they stand to watch the incineration of a world of lonely hearts. they laugh, entertained as hearts set on fire and are stabbed by rusty knives until they bleed; blood black and cold as hell must really be. they say the devil has a heart of ice and stone, it seems reasonable to believe that his world should be the same. hearts of fire are capable of passion, they are still soft on the inside. hearts of ice and stone can feel nothing, and especially not compassion or love or passion. they hurt just to hurt.
and all these hearts go around smashing each other to pieces as though it makes them happy and satisfied. but in the breaking they themselves crack, the small and bittersweet lines tracing arteries and capilliaries. blueredpurple like a bruise. the mapwork to secret desires and inner needs, a story to what every little girl really wants. a hand to fit hers into and a chest to rest her head on when she cries. denied this, she learns the art of sulking and depression, and self-absorbtion. she never really knew any better. or maybe she did...
we have too little to say to a world falling apart, collapsing in on itself into this beautiful disaster creating ugliness and hate. people create destruction and we haven't learned how to appologize for it yet. go breathe in your cancer-sticks and thank your god that you're still alive and maybe you'll learn that jesus never really gave a damn about you anyway. we hope you burn alive with the rest of these cities of pain and intolerance.
it's never as good when you aren't here.