God is the blood of life. I sleep in blood without security I am hungry and desire no one at all. Death is hell and i do not desire love.
If love is to be desired than is it a desire that I wish to be loved. If not than when might I ask do I wish to desire love. What does the future hold and is there even real love.
I cannot speak nor do I dare to express daily how I sincerely feel. For those that take of my words are those that have some need.
Though there is no importance in my words. I will not desire anything that will expire and allow me to feel afire.I cannot trespass on that which not meant laid.
My hands stained by love in the past.I have meaning but there is none, is there purpose. For what purpose do I have to breath....
I cannot wash the blood of the past from hands. Dare I not forget the lessons of yesterday. To seek the knowledge of tomorrow.
Lest my mind be filled with sorrow. I cannot bear the pain or sorrow of my heart. There is no real love for me. Life is a play for which are no intermissions.