KgvMasters

Whispers from my dark lips to your ear, I say the words we used to fear. Yet now we know from our soul and heart, that we are one, never to part.

18: Racism, in all of it's colourful forms, is fucking stupid. Anyone with the slightest grasp of science would agree. Strip away the geographical location, up bringing, history and religion of every country and we are the same. We eat, sleep, breath, fight, fuck, dance, laugh, cry, bleed and shit, all as humans. Just imagine the sort of headway we would make as a species if we actually worked together! I guarantee that a joint global science and research initiative would produce a world with more Bill Nye's and less Snooki's. And isn't that a world every race would fight for? A world without Snooki's? 19: You will encounter people in your l

I'm the creek of the door The scratching on the floor I'm the knock on the glass The shudder as I pass I'm the smile in the dark The footsteps in the park I'm the torch that goes out The head crammed full of doubt I'm the voice in your ear you're trying to ignore. You turn of all the lights. Alone with you once more. I'm the hair in the sink The rotten cellar stink I'm the upside down cross The reason for your loss I'm the book bound in skin The darkness held within I'm the legend of old The one they never told I'm the reason the church gave the preacher a call. His words lifted you up. I'll make sure that you fall. I'm the alter of blood

1. Nobody can talk to the dead. And why would you want to? Unless you want an accurate description of the inside of a wooden box I suggest saving your burning questions for the living. Anyone who says otherwise is motivated by fame or fortune and is feeding off of the insecurities and heartbreak of their fellow man. If you knowingly sell a product or service in a fraudulent manner you can be fined and imprisoned. If you pretend to be able to speak to a dead child on behalf of their grieving parents you are given a TV show. It is cruel, it is damaging and it needs to stop. And those of you who buy into this bullshit, if you provide me one inst

Falling from the edge of all reason As they come to my head And the walls start to crumble now Fields surround my bead Twisted strings, fleshy puppets Act the scenes that make up my dreams Scary faces, happy places, Is this all really what it seems? The tablets are all gone now, my dear Overdosed and under loved Pictures forming, the past is dawning It fits me just like a glove Glass melts into a crimson oak tree The sky a liquid black silk A beach of bones, lidless eyes of stone Suckle the weeping lambs milk I can't breath through the hair in my throat Nor hear through the colour of skin A wordless tome lay on the ocean throne Yet the cro

I gave up on smoking, baby Just like I gave up on giving a fuck Let the cancer take me, honey Looks like this boy's out of his luck I don't need no riches, girl Just my neck free from this chain So if this is my last meal, babe Make it tablets that will numb the pain There ain't no man, no there ain't no woman Who can tell my grave I didn't try Yeah There ain't no man, no there ain't no one Who can tell my grave I didn't cry There ain't no man, no there ain't no woman Who can tell my grave I didn't try Yeah There ain't no man, no there ain't no one Who can tell my grave I didn't cry My pen moves faster than the words fall out And ev

Sleep is a dream within itself Unreachable by these mortal hands. The mind, a treasure of infinite wealth Drifting lidless through silent lands. It was neither wine nor whisky But Laudanum to my lips I bring The empty bottle lies with the others and yet I remember everything. Mistakes are the bedrock of your ocean Upon which despair so gently flows. Its depths abound with your regrets Ready to swallow the path you chose. Honesty is a sword that cuts one way Straight to the heart of its wielder. The liars know this all to well So easy it is to turn the blade. All that I once were, forgotten Yet will anybody truly weep? I leave my home, mis

During the dark hours of early morning I find myself more and more inclined to self-harm. There is almost a beauty in its ease and simplicity, as it takes nothing more than a sharp object such as a blade or a shard of glass and little to no pressure is required, unless of course the tool at hand is particularly dull. Please... Do not mistake my use of the word beauty as any indication that I take erotic fancy in this act. Such things escape my understanding, as for all intents and purpose, suffering pain, even in small doses, was as far from sexually arousing as possible to my mind. No, the beauty is solely within the sensation itself. I woul

 You will not remember this but when you were the essence, before your birth and before your memories, before you were bloodied and bathed in florescence, you could feel every loving thought you mother had. Every violent trial that your father ever conquered. They were like the stars in the night, so beautiful, and yet they melted into an ink that smothered you. Choking you of the purity you were created from. Another blank canvas smeared with red and black. A work of art worthy of the museum of aeons. A key to yourself that you will never get back. The essence of you fed from that tainted ink. Absorbing its messages and swelling with

Last night I dreamt of you. Those first few seconds of waking, when reality and fiction are one, were the happiest I had been in years.