Niklas Stephenson


did you see the star die inside
when the vein crushed
and there was nowhere to push?
did you make a wish?
did you hear the applause
of the dripping blood?
Did you know that suicide
is a work of art,
an expression of resistance,
and your tragic ending
was the begining of mine?
Did you know that when we fucked
I felt every bone shake and shiver
and I wanted to tear off your skin
to see how your insides work?
I am not sure if you really existed
or if you’re just a fantasy
of my induced deliriums,
but why couldn’t you come save me
from the things you put me on,
the needles,
the pipes,
the plastic bags,
the bloody steering wheels,
rusty razors and stolen cars?
Wasn’t it love?
Will I ever be brave enough
for freedom

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