I bled hours for you, feeding your minds.
I bled my soul onto your palate.
So that you could cast my blood aside,
Cast my soul aside, calling me tainted,
A thief, a plagurist. You call me unoriginal.
I would teach you my art if I could,
Show you my talents. I would carve
My thoughts upon you, my living medium,
My canvas of flesh, I would find your
Trait'rous, lying, subserviant eyes, those
Eyes that see only the comforts of life.
I would find those eyes and tear them
From your orderly skull, and onto
Them I would paint my masterwork.
Let you remeber that, oh, blind
Critics, you are but  my canvas of shame.

I wait and wait, but I am still confused, well most people cannot understand why I am so confused.

I do not own anyone. meine
I do not truly love anyone leibe
But I want to control someone bestrafe

Why is it that I no longer want love--
keine lust--
All I want is to feel something more than hollow shadows of a time unwanted--
schlechte kinderzeit--
What is it about staying up until dawn that makes me never want to sleep again--
Kissenstimme--,
I have no feeling--
töte--
I am dead, like the sky with no clouds.
dead like summer when fires rage
I have no feeling left in me
Only confusion, like swirling clouds of gray--
gelt
and red--
Blut

The rock and I share our warmth
 a slow sweet reptilian gesture
I blink and rise, pacing for I am
 impatient.

The prey skitters and flicks before me,
but the sun is up and I have
much better things to do
like sleep.

 As I pace, I think of the rock
 who just this morning was mine
 my lover and my caretaker.
 I forget

I keep a slow and easy pace
to keep the memory of the rock
Alive in my skin I keep its warmth
within.

 To often I have forgotten the rocks
 who loved me and shared with me
 the sunlight that they keep within
 but they forget.

They grow cold while I am there
They forget the sun, and give
 his warmth to me never keeping
 The light.

Why is it, that in my cold blood
 I can never remember the warmth
 of my stone, but only the feeling
 of coarseness.

 The stone cut my belly when I
stretched along it, it scraped my
 hand when I caressed it, it is
Painful.

 Why can I never keep that warmth
within my heart, only the memory
 of the blood on my cooling
 flesh.

 It is like death as night falls,
 my skin grows cold, but I soon
 feel the sun within my veins though
 he is gone.
 
I keep his light within me and
in the morning, he will find me again
with an uncaring stone, my heart asleep
 my body alive.