l1k3gh0sts

(WARNING: dark themes involving death) He is dead. It's the last thing you ever want to hear come from another person. It's true though. He died last night and I can't seem to stop visiting his body. It's bagged up in the office. He's so cold. He's stiff. I feel sick at the thought of even touching him but I can't stop myself. I place trembling fingers on what was once living. He used to feel so warm and soft. I feel my stomach turn again and I only find myself leaning down to kiss the trash bag softly. I can taste the bile in the back of my throat as I finally draw away. He's dead. I know that but I can't let him go. I swear he's breathing

(Warnings: General insanity) We all have something to hide. It doesn't matter who you are or even if your willing to admit it. It's normal. He reminds me of that every so often. I don't know why he even bothers though. Let me share a little bit about him. I don't really have a name for him. He's like a shadow lurking just behind me. I guess Dark is as good a name as any. He's what I need to hide away from people. Not so much for my sake but for theirs. I'm sure most people have seen glimpses of him. Hell I'm positive they have. Mad and Virus are the names they have given those moods but they don't understand. It's all him. He is everything

(Warnings: General insanity) There is a monster inside of me. It burns under my skin, eating away at who I should have been. I see it behind my eyes in mirrors every time I find myself in front of one. It's there...waiting for some new game to play. It makes me laugh, cry, react but does it ever feel? I try to pretend it's not there but I hear it's voice inside my head. It's fingers wrapping around my throat as I'm stopped from talking about it. This monster says hi to you even when I think I'm alone. My face doesn't matter. Who I am is nothing but a shell for the creature so I'll wear the mask instead. Because in the end it's all in my hea