vagabondprophet:

I woke up clutching my chest
Doc says my heart was attacked
I don’t know what it’ll gain
But I’ll try to reenact

You caught me accidentally
Like a fatal ricochet
You smiled like I’d never seen
In a private display

How can I describe you
Far too many a detail
If the Devil’s in just one
Well I’ll surely derail.

I’ll try to do you justice
With the passion you’ve installed
You dropped it walking by
And into me it crawled

My god you hurt so bad
My gut twists and wrenches
Feeling you creep inside
With vicious gripping clenches

I’d drink all the poison
That you’re recommending
So that you’d call me yours
Even if you’re pretending

You’re by far my favourite cancer
My heart is yours to attack
I’m terminal you know
My heart is yours to attack

vagabondprophet:

A simple looking man
The kind that you might trust
Who likes mustard with his ham
And bread without the crust

You sound like you’re dieing
With bloody sneezes
Painful moaning  wimpers
And wet wheezes

What’s it like
To feel yourself expire
To watch your breath evaporate
To know the straights are dire

vagabondprophet:

They say there’s an archer in the sky
And surely his bowstring grows taut
When he’s aiming at his prize
Perhaps the boar or the horse

Why must you aim at me
You,
Celestial and otherworldly
Surely I’m no trophy

Yet I find myself cornered
My pulse gone flat
Just like your bowstring
Pulled by your touch

I beg you just let go
Better to be slain
By an arrow from your quiver
Than to quiver all my life.