guardian angel

 is it a crime to conceal a cry in a whisper 

to recognize a ghost as oneself in angel dust

silence has killed the messenger at gunpoint

by the door, a bloody alleyway of distant affairs

where maggots crawl undetected in alarming signs

"I done it, I done it, it was me", said no One.

Not one living soul: remainders, simple math in fact

my confession is a defection that courts my beloved's skirt

or so I hang on, dragging on an empty coffin that grins bored shitless

guts ran dry, a foul mood kills the Sun with one eye on my guardian angel

the mere sight a branding revitalized transfixed, running anew the chilling verse

as eyesight interconnect the butterflies take flight as my whisper embraces death

I appreciate it is not for want of rescuing the need to behold your soul

but a lonely hunger that compels me to march towards my last breath

and the firm believe I might not sustain another blow might the bells not play 

so clear? a chant so fluent the fingers alone could match their lovely echoes

venom frothing from pores, I can already tell the reaction

my coffee, my obsession, my taste decays as the zooming in intensifies

we can afford to get like this every year, to rediscover we are on our fucking own

it is when the blade dulls and the breath shortens that they return for the twin wing

for I too am extremely humble and honest in equal scale, the flaws polished by the rain

I bargain a great discount at large, chop me up and eat my Heart

just nibble slowly at my Humanity for in empathy there is no turning back,

face expressions blurring used to cause me a mighty fright, 

petrified that I could not differ

Vampire from

 -turned backs

insignificant when silence and sound are no longer in the room

-mangled heart

"did you like it? I think I like you."

odd be that rain, to me, is a sensorial time machine

rude as fuck because it does not ask for permission

since my guardian angel has died.