What is there to say about me? I was once filled with noble virtues and dreams so bright that the sun paled in comparison. A heart so full and pure that even the Angels looked upon in awe and jealousy. Then I was suddenly converted into a monster so beguiling that even my own shadow cowered in fear. A charming, vulgar, silhouette of my former self, disguised among you as one of your peers, waiting for that perfect moment to reach out and procure your soul. To be able to look into a man's eyes and in two single heart beats knowing his intentions; for I am the Queen. I know some of you may balk, yet some may find earnestness in this creation.
I will self-destruct, the scars that were left by the cruelty of life's surgeon blacken my artery and harden my every fiber of grief-stricken madness. I am that madman fighting her demons like a fool, the drug addict of nothing. I feel my abuse, and I understand it. The silence of the anger, fists and rage of sorrow cannot bring me back to the glory that encapsulates your memory within my seething heart. Your love, the feeling I've lost control and failing so beautiful tender touch, I would set myself on fire a thousand times for just five more minutes of your magnificence against my skin.
If I want to return to the sunshine of the living, I must cross and an ocean of hate to get there, and a culture of enormous sorrow stands in my way. I am near the end, and I've accomplished nothing. I still dwell in the confusion of my experience. I am unfocused for I do not want people to like me. I am on the edge, and I have no more strength to fly, the last of my euphoria has turned to stone. I can try to live out my days in anguish for life is just life and death will bring us all together someday. This is my demise, and I understand this. My Beloved, I have no idea how I'm going to find you, but you are worth enduring the worst of life's creations. Your love, your forgiveness and tender touch, nothing matters except dying a thousand deaths and receiving the simple pleasure of holding you one more time.
We are just made of iron and bone that has been disintegrating and transforming before our very eyes; held together with weak skin and easy to open veins. We have been created from dust only to live and love and get shoved back into the dirt. I don't have a clue how to find you, but I know that somewhere in the sunlight of the spirit you are there guiding me home to your arms. Without you by my side, I have lost my savage will to live, but I will find you.
All my love.
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Everything above belongs to William Control (William Francis) they are his lyrics from the albums Noir, Hate Culture, and The Neuromancer. Lyrics are by written by him. I just shuffled them around and turned them into a story. Why? Because I'm weird. William is amazingly gifted, and please check out his music. If you get a chance, buy his books:
Revelator Book 1 The Neuromancer
Revelator Book 2 The Hate Culture
80 pages of poems, essays and prose.
FLOWERS + FILTH
You can buy the books and check out his music at his website, www.williamcontrol.com
I make nothing off of this; I did it out of fun and out of love for his poetry and the way he writes his songs. Please don't sue me.
