Moonlight

Musik: Pretty On The Inside - Hole
Kleiden: Red hoodie and jeans
Filme: Daybreakers (Spierig)
Buchen: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

This is a poem called Moonlight.

My heart is made of ice,
It can shatter.
It’s hot as a star,
It shall self-combust.
I feel the rays of moonlight,
Reflecting off my skin;
I shiver, and think of you.
An empty lake;
All the water has drained away;
I swallowed it with my pills.

The purity of the numbness,
Leaves me gasping,
Struggling to fill my lungs at all.
My lungs are composed of cold,
Chilly winds pass through them
Like a draft under a door.

If I felt anymore,
The pure volume of the concept,
Would destroy my brain;
It would become a black hole,
Consuming everything in its wake.
If I felt any less,
The emptiness of the void,
Would be filled with shattered glass,
And I would bleed until death.

A mirror-image of myself,
Would create pure joy,
It would create calmness,
Peace of mind.
This being would never know love,
Nor heart-break
But live its life in blissful ignorance.
Kill me, keep her.
She wants to stay forever.

My heart isn’t made of anything,
Because I amputated it.
It out-lived its use.