Dan (notunique) wrote,

The Downward Spiral...

"The urge towards love, pushed to its limit...is an urge towards death"
----Marquis de Sade

Misery emcompasses the room...Suffocating and intoxicating. Beads of blood drip like sweat down arms but no one notices...for the only thing that they can see if a reflection of the body in a jaded mirror. To see through the looking glass is to see the desolation of a hope lost in the eternal emptiness...but the glass is shattered into a million pieces...through the blunt knife of despair...piercing and cutting away at emotions..

All that is left is this broken image..forever contained within a portrait that was never meant to be painted..never meant to be remembered. Not by choice..but by apathy...a shadow on the black canvas reveals nothing but a distorted image of an illusion...a mask worn to conceal what was never obvious...

For the time when pen is placed to paper and the ink leaves a stain...that is the only mark that will be everlasting...the only words ever uttered are to someone who can never hear it...so the only meaning to this final act of treason lay within the thoughts of a dying mind...only one holds the key...but they will never come...nothing will change..no one will remember...no one will care...
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