Poets Alike

Blood runs so thick in my hands Gripping your souls so tight Loving every moment of excruciating pain within my heart I long for every second I have to be next to you As friends, brothers in arms, poets in sarrow Simple words cannot live up to the descussions we've had Deep and painful, everyone always claims that your work is better than mine I twitch and blink, trying to hold in my sanity I long not only to have and hold your talent within my hands Expression means that of its writer not thy partner or idol Idol? Speaking in terms of higher power would be to strike against myself For I am the higher power I do not expect no one else to understand or comprehend the ever so dreadful, lustful pain That I hold inside myself I grin and laugh in its face I am the reaper, holding your life within my palms I love no one of such higher dignity or grace I am death, that holds the flame so you wont be lost I am the skull that burns with each gasping breathe you take Cleanching fists and spilling blood is what I long for How do I pull myself apart from this? Nothing can save me now for I am long ago dead You are my friend, my enemy, my lover, my sanctuary, my family How do I cope with this feeling? Of so many?