Life, and all of its remains, slow decay of flesh, the smell of life is vile, and grotesque. only death is real, only sex is real, love lingers in the dark, inflicting pain upon us, so that we kick, and squirm and mutilate our selves, inner pain, inner pleasure, inward death. from this we fail, to succeed, in life in this we fail to understand. stained, broken, battered, we breath. And this so called air suffocates us asphyxiates and we die, slowly i die. with pain of love, and mortal hate, i breath death, and death takes thy breath.