VIII- Sea Salt Ice Cream
2009-10-18, 12:11 a.m.

The varied wax has settled as all the candles have blown out, like tiny stars close enough to overwhelm with mere breath.
A galaxy of fire reflected into millions by a dimension created by two adjacent mirrors.

I find that I am not reflected; like a vampire-- so lost in thoughts of their own eternity that light does not reflect their form onto a shiny surface.

A matter of faith defeating the laws of the natural world.

My cigarette seems to have gone out as I pluck thoughts from oblivion like hearts from the heartless. A filter dangles from my dry scorched lips and all the red has been dismissed from my ashes that spread all over the front of my shirt like blood.

The ashes have chosen death; wrather than a new birth as flame.

It seems I'm low on gas and all out of matches.

"For I was so tuned to her; I loved her so completely; she was so much the companion of my every waking hour, the only companion I had, other than death."
-Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

Do nothing

Repitition of HatredLoveless AvenueBurn Out (and) Fade Away