Something Infectious

What my love: a sea of woe: a captured soul; and so close, a

Dying dream; and so far, a wailing hope; and paint the death, 

A wall of tears; and laugh the life, a fallin’ soul. We nurtured

Hell, a pool of red eyes; and we pondered—a misconception.

The world so dead; and we cried love; and such was perfect;

And such was death. I failed a vision: hoping the gates; and

Tainted love, an odor foul; and screaming eyes, pleaded God;

And we vanished: lost to lust; and we faltered—the Holy

Ghost. My deepest pain, fly the coup; and worry not; and

Love freely; for death is but a cousin; and life is but a sister;

And sin is but a brother; indeed, grip the pain, and soar: the

Future is but forgotten. Speak to me softly: lie ever again; for

The end has come; and pain is so hopeful; and love is so grey;

And thus the lie; and thus the flame.