Secrets to the Grave

I'm scared of dying because I don't want the doctors to perform an autopsy on me. I don't want random strangers to cut me open where I've so skillfully hidden my secrets. I don't want people to see my charcoal heart, where lies and flaws left their indelible stains. I don't want them to see my shriveled lungs, where I've stopped breathing years ago. I don't want people to see the gruesome contents of my stomach, where all the words and thoughts and feelings I've swallowed rotted away over the years. I would rather have insects and maggots eat me away and have my secrets seep through the soil of the silent earth. I would rather not die at all.

(Not) The End

And it terrifies me that
it would come to a screeching
halt.

Kiss Me

Kiss my feet and they will blossom into an amaranthine meadow of flowers.
Kiss my arms and watch them twist into great, serpentine rivers that intertwine like double-helices.
Kiss my shoulders, they will stretch into two bridges that interconnect planets and systems.
Kiss my lips and taste the golden elixir of honey. You will be immortal.
Kiss my eyes and they will be the eternal stars to guide you through the endless nights.

Fascinating,

don't you think?
You know, the way the birds sort of... swirl around. In the air. I mean, virtual. In the virtual air.
Gah, you know what I mean.
It's mesmerizing. I can't tear my eyes away from it.
Maybe it's just me.

I'm Meant to Miss You

Dear Armand,

I don't know if you remember, or if I even said it out loud but I once told you that I think I missed you even before I knew you and I've always missed you since.

Oh darling, isn't it funny how you can tell me you love me a thousand times and kiss me till I'm drunk and I'll still be starving for your love? I miss you even when your entire being is pressed to my feverish soul and when the lines and edges of our bodies are blurred and indistinct. And I miss you now, more than ever, that you've yet again taken leave of me, even though you assured me again and again that you'll be back, and that you'll miss me and that you love me.

Soon, dear. Because if you miss me you'll feel it too. If you miss me you would be no stranger to the sweet throbbing of helpless desire that blooms most coruscantly at night and you would be squirming in your bed as if your back is plagued and infested with innumerable little maggots. If you miss me, you would be beside yourself, unraveling memories with a single breath, a slight gesture. Not goodbye, you say. Well of course not, never goodbye because you'll be back. You always did.

Yet I suspect I will never stop missing you; even if we're done and we no longer osculate in each others' lives and memory is all we have left. I would hold you in my bones until I die and my flesh falls away from my skeleton and you'll still be with me. In one way or another.

Love always,
Sheryl

I'm Serious

=(

To My Dearest,

My dark prince, my twisted twin, my tragic dreamer. You alone understand the blackness that comes in waves, you alone stepped into this whirlpool of demons and loved them all. You kissed them on their gnarled and distorted mouth, as if they were docile kittens, merely because you love me and they were part of me.

Love you, love you as I've never loved, love you beyond consciousness, beyond mortality, love you beyond comprehension. This savage and unequivocal love knows no bounds, wants you and your body and your blood. Wants your thrashing soul between my teeth.

I love you so much I rip myself apart mentally for you. It's a terrible love and we bring each other into such pure, psychedelic inebriation that transcends all meaning and coherence. We are two lost souls finding the light, and in doing so we surrender our everything. Fragments of us are disgorged into this great, empyrean void - so humbly and so modestly called love - that we leave almost nothing of our original selves behind.

Don't you see? There's no part of me that's untouched by your effulgence. My entire being is marked and scarred by you and still I want more. I'll forever be wanting more.

Always,
Sheryl.

May 7th

Because I let myself wade
into you too prematurely;
first the ankles, knees and thighs.
And suddenly I'm up to my shoulders
in you.

Everything was measured and everything was slow,
and because of that
I believed that I was safe
in the impenetrability of time.
I didn't know that I would
wake up one day
to find that I am
the color of your blood.

Who Am I

without my list of obsessions? Because really, we all know that I wouldn't last a week without obsessing over something.

So here are my current ones:

1. Cough Syrup - Young the Giant
2. GAME OF THRONES (SEASON 2) *melts*
3. Morocco
4. Indian clothes and accessories!!!
5. Charles Baudelaire
6. The Kills
7. Black
8. Tim Burton
9. Eric Northman. Again.
10. The Arabian Nights

Wonderland

I used to have the same fever dreams over and over again; an endless dream sequence set in a place like wonderland.

There, people walk around in a stupor with half-smiles on their faces. They talk about how the sun is shining so brightly, or compliment the precise diamond-like shape of raindrops but when asked about their names or who they are, they fall silent.

You are walking in the middle of a crowd of people; suddenly you stop, turn around and there's no one around you at all. You're standing in a narrow hallway and you can see no end to it. You put one foot ahead of another because there's really nothing else you can do.

She looks at me, her face utterly devoid of emotion and holds out her palm to me. WE'RE ALL MAD HERE, written in faded black ink. She continues licking the ink on her translucent skin.

There's a mirror in front of me and I see you in it; or rather, you see me. And I realize that we're the same person after all. And all the people walking in circles, with their zombie-smiles and their apparent lack of sound minds are more clones of me.

Then the dream would start all over again.