I woke up today a new person. No, not a person. Different. I can't see very well. I can't feel anything, but I can move. Fast! This was the best part -being in one district at one moment, and another in less than a minute. At least, I thought it was the best part. But I smelled something... enticing. Something that drew me in. It made me feel a certain kind of hunger. Not of the body, but of the mind. It gave me a certain kind of familiar feeling. I forgot exactly what it was, but I've forgotten a lot of things. Mostly everything. The only thing I seem to know is how to use a pen. The strokes that I make are interesting, and deft. I don't even know why I write this, but it is soothing after that meal. My, that meal gave me a rush. When I smelled that tangy smell my unfeeling legs ran of their own accord towards it. And there it was. I don't know what it was... no I do now! It was a person! Not like me though.

It had words. But this thing could write words straight from its mouth. It wrote, "Penelope? Your a... zombie! No, no, no! I'm so sorry! I lost you! I tried to protect you! Please! Penelope! Please hear me! You've got to be in there!"

I tried to comprehend its words, but the smell was overpowering, and it led me right to the thing.

It felt so good to feel something in my mouth. The only thing I can feel and taste, and it tasted good! Now I must find more. I won't be satisfied until my next meal.

My stitches fitted your scars,

perfectly.

Under the first full moon of May,

delusional,

you kissed me and told me

"My heart is yours!"

You promised me.

Then you ripped mine,

brutally,

leaving my face with blood,

effortlessly.

How wishful of me to think

your forever is 

the same as mine. 

While you kiss her now,

calmly,

speaking words of love,

certainly,

the scars you left on my soul

now fit to the stitches

on your past.

Now I'm watching you,

heartless,

only my shadow hunts you,

speachless.

You feel my soul 

grabbing the parts of you

that you keep hiden.

Ripping every piece,

brutally, 

dancing with your fears,

effortlessly.

How wishful of you to think 

that I won't haunt you 

till your last breath. 

And she, she was just a bonus,

lucky me.  

I should confess.

I should turn myself in,

And let the jury handle the rest.

I am guilty.

Although not pre-meditated,

I worked quite neatly.

No weapon,

No prints.

I'll have no one to convince.

I didn't know this person,

I have no motive to kill.

Is that lying under oath,

If I did it for the thrill?

Penance for your thoughts alone,

We live to be buried in a coffin of gold.

'Twas the night your muse renounced, 

Our hearts of profit; slim and sour.

Steal the coins that clothe your corpse,

And withdraw the petals that lost it's flower.

These buildings crush and overflow,

With hoards of want we disregard.

For in the end, there's unceasingly so much more;

Misplaced heaps of flesh we love, then ignore. 

Depression is the suppression of one’s expression.

It’s repression, discretion,

In an attempt to hide the oppression of aggression,

and it’s transgression.

There is no hope,

No way to cope.

It need a blessing,

But all it wants is a rope.

To elope, maybe get a little dope.

But none will fix it,

Not long after it’ll wish to quit,

To split and transmit,

From this life with a knife.

Maybe, just maybe,

If someone understood,

If they helped its crazy,

All would be good.

All could be well,

All should be swell,

And not at all like this hell.