Just a book you said. But it was you who wrote it. You're a killer. A murder. A man looking for attention. A man without feelings. A killingmachine. A man who likes flowers, dead. You can't feel. You can't be unreal. You're a psycho. You need help. Your memory is gone. Mine too. You don't have to be like this. You can change. I know you like darkness. I know you  like pain. I really know, you like to kill. You don't like puppies. You don't like kittens. You don't like cute things, not even sweetness. You don't like me. You want to kill me.

You don't trust people. You don't believe in God. You don't believe in angels. But you do believe in faith.

You love me, but you want to kill me. You don't know what to do. You want to kiss my neck. You also want to slit my throat off. Why wont you just do it? Are you to afraid? Or maybe you just love me to much!

I know I said that you don't like me. Cause you want to kill me. But to like someone is totally different than to love someone. You said in the phone that you want to see me dead. You said in your bedroom that you want to see me naked. How do you want me? Dead, or naked? Or maybe both at the same time? You're a psycho. A fucking killer. A murder. A killingmachine. A man who enjoys pain. But after all, you're still my beloved!..

/J

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2009-05-24 @ 13:21:47 / Direktlänk / Allmänt