Suicide and Murder

in the depths of despair
where hopelessness stands
a sinister voice whispers
kill yourself, die

who are you
I whisper from my isolation
it moans and answers
I am your lover

the torment of fire inside
a raging thirst for companionship
pushed down by despair
alone, no hands reach out

the hard steel against the chest
feels so good like a homecoming lover
to dance with in love's embrace

the knife plunge causing gutteral groans
love throes ejaculations
hands clutching bedclothes
and spray it with magenta

"And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!” (Macbeth)