sanguine roses and alabaster skin

i fly at night sometimes.

too eager to seek out and burn. i am not that which flies effortlessly, i fly at the smoldering expense of all that i am. i die a bit everytime i soar and i soar toward that which brings immortality. i have no bounds, only liimitations.

it's all a lavish casting of a carved bone die. a die carved from that bit of me that was taken in my youth. i cannot remember it; i do not want to. i only know that it has many sides and cannot come snake eyes because it is alone.

so i burn to soar and cast my die. it is the only way that i know.

and when, at last, i reach my final light i will know how i arrived at that end. ashen and quaking under the weight of my own torn being, i will embrace my final spark of life.
i will fade. i will end.

they will remember me with sanguine roses and alabaster skin. they will cast my ashes among the remains of society's future investments. and i will lie there laughing, staring out into this comic tragedy with thickless eyes... unmuddied by survival. lost in the weightless enigma of nothingness.

i will remember that freedom comes at a heavy ransom, but it is nothing that concerns me in the losing.

Tags: death, dieing, freedom, goth

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