Last Masterpiece

Drain,

Drain my blood and,

Paint your wall,

With my crimes.

Dig your warm fingers

Into my cold blood,

With your lustful eyes

Imagine the painted wall

Let the red dry,

And become your art
Art be your masterpiece
No one to copy
As no one will have me.
Make all those faces,
And those wounds.
Let the color drip
As it would from flesh.
The pleasure of the paint
Remember that no one was saint.
Let not the color faint.
With opera dying with time,
Finish the wall
Let it be witnessed by all
Oh! the last glimpses
Looked beautyful
Paint it before I am empty
Before I am drained of beauty
You once saw.

Let Me

Let me go blind,

That is how i'll stop.

Stop looking for you,

Stop finding traces of you.

.

Let me go deaf,

That is how i'll stop,

Stop listening the music in you,

Stop the tunes as clue.

.
Let me go mute,
That is how i'll stop,
Stop taking the name belonging to you,
Stop every word describes you.
.
Or let me just die,
That is how i'll stop.
Stop from hoping the wrong
Stop from trumping my disability.
.
I am a cripple,
Disable to senses.
There's no land,
Beyond these good fences.
Imaginary but they make me bleed.
Only physical pain is seed,
Grows into small tree,
Which is doomed to death
Absent of faith,
Of belief
Of love
Of grief.
.
All there what remains
Is Linguistic process
Like any machine would
Knowing what fits
Where it fits,
Only words are not in scarce.
Let me stop being a Human.
That's how i'll stop.
Stop living a lie.
Stop living at all
Funny words
Being my laugh and cry.
.
I shall not find you,
Never shall.
I'll let you happen.
Like a bullet catching me,
In crossfire
Hitting me to senses
Back to life(probably)
Where words
Be not mere words.
A smile be a smile,
Fear would be Fear,
And tears would be clear.
.
But wait,
I shall hope that you never happen.
Never till i breath my last.

Role of Being a Human

His heart felt nothing,
Even death could not pierce,
His wildest of imaginations,
Imaginations so fierce.
.
He sat there reading,
With poker face.
And finished it with same,
As feelings had no trace.
.
His heart was still the same,
Which of no human's would.
Has he lost his soul,
He knew once he would.
.
A while ago he'd be broken,
broken into pieces and shreds.
But now he just stands,
holding to his threads.
.
Or perhaps he refuses,
refuses to hear heart's loud cry.
The pleas  of his bleeding heart,
Or for him it all is just a lie.
.
Emotions became farce,
He lost his senses of tragedy.
What he held most precious once,
Stands to nothing but crass.
.
Is he a human anymore?
He looks like one.
But shows no signs,
Of humanity evermore.
.
All he knows to act,
To enact the role.
To show the remains of the world,
That he still had a Soul.