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All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts and made up of our thoughts. If a man speak or act with an evil thought, suffering follows him as the wheel follows the hoof of the beast that draws the wagon…. If a man speak or act with a good thought, happiness follows him like a shadow that never leaves him.

Gautama Buddha (via purplebuddhaproject)


SICK LOVE Written By: Joshua Jorgensen

The October night has long been my favorite; dead blood-leaves, sick indeed, scraping along the black road now red.

The moon that hangs like a limp smile in the sky lets a golden warmth glow through the night. It’s like a sun in the sky for the dark and the dead—or maybe for those like me that are ill in the head.

The path to the cemetery has always been paved—it goes on a ways up the hills to that gate!

Now, I am a rare on that finds the skull quite amusing—some poor bastard rich man, I know it, I know it—who thought he’d station his rotted-of-flesh-head at the entrance of this location.

My lover, you see, came to me in a dream.

"Go to the place where the skull seems to seem like a person you’ve desired to meet, to meet."

Now, isn’t that a funny thing? My lover, you see, caught a disease, poor thing. I watched for three months as his flesh feasted on him…how grim, yes, how dim. His lips were pulled back in a smile forever, as his skin was feasting on skin like leather! And I saw as his teeth fell from gums that were darker than the blackness you meet when you’re facing forever.

But lovers were we, you see, we arranged to wed! But, it was not meant to be, at least not yet.

So here on this October night he came back to me, beckoning I visit his new sanctuary.

I knew what this meant.

I packed my shovel, and I packed with haste! Midnight was approaching, and if I were to see him I’d need a much quicker pace!

So I met that fat rich man’s head at the gate, and I smashed it with the shovel I brought on this date! I laughed at the moon and blood leaves at my feet, for tonight was my night since he called out to me!

I found his head marker, a stoney delight, and I dug and I dug towards his bed in the night!

When at long last my labour brought his coffin to light, the moon had escaped behind clouds black as ice. I opened his tomb and I saw how he lay, he beckoned for loving why else would he say, “Come here my lover, tonight we’ll away! On a ship to forever where we’ll never escape!”

So I kissed the skin that was peeling away, from the place where pink lips used to lay, used to say—“I love you!”

But aha! How they still kiss me back! Love is forever, don’t you remember? Haven’t they taught you? Nothing can stop me, nothing my friends, as I make love to my lover, just me and him. And inside the box of our passions now spent, I close us inside of the casket of sin!

The worms wriggle through my veins just like his! I’m letting them eat me on top of him.

The wolves are howling and the night is growling as the reaper beckons me in, let me in! So now that I’m wedding a beautiful man, in darkness, in darkness, this sick love will stand.

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