A wish list?! "
I want to eat something
Something hot enough to burn my tongue
I know with that burned tongue I won't be able to feel the tip of it for some moments but yet, at least all of my thoughts and attention will be on my boneless tongue
The skeleton of death will fall on the ground as if it's still autumn for them and I won't be numb for a while, maybe!
I want to drink the bitter
I have heard that bitterness kills the bitterness
The bitterness is all over me whenever I try to be sweet it started killing the rose heart of people around me
I so want to drink bitter maybe, like maybe there is tiny little chance; my bitterness will walk away just the way I am walking away from sugary skin because I am scared of ants around them
Even though I worn tasteless clay, or be clay: they will mold me in disgusted waterfall and they wash their sin and left me to be clean on my own
I want to wear black
I am already wearing black as always
I have been told by loved ones do not wear that color only, all colors suits you and making you more beautiful
But do I suits on them?! They have always been there I know but why do they change themselves after some washes and why the black remains same?! Why do I feel more peace in black and other colors just digging hole of hollowness after one wash by my eyes! Why the salty water made them leave their essence while I am remaining same so does this black attire of darkness!
I want to live death
I guess I am repeating this millionth time that I want to live death, at least for once! I know when I will be there in graveyard and turning into pink skin girl to pale skin and from that to dead body to skeleton! My soulful metaphors will be all around the waterfall of clay and for the first time I will took bath in my own self! The water will clean all the bruises I was hiding! When I will jump on puddles of memories laying there, they will splash names of stars, one by one who will fall after my wish, and will make abode for my withered verses!
I want to eat poems
//burp, burp// I think I already did. I started crawling through clouds of ink to floor of pages and I stayed on words for a while until they started absorbing me. After few stanzas the muddy emotions and I were there. But somehow the toxicity inside my silence started fire. And to save the beautiful garden I ate all the poems at once! Now my books and thoughts are running away, they are thinking I will kill them to death, but how can a dead eat death?! That's what I am thinking. At last I am just trying to make a list but on same time I am forgetting how it is impossible for a dead metaphor to pour life into words "