 
## Is it Ana?

### Maria Morisot

### Cover Art by Moan Lisa

### Published by Moan Lisa Press at Smashwords

### Public Domain

http://maria.moanlisa.org

### Music Box

You wanted the calm sea to take me under;

and so it has; here beneath the waves, I lie;

under you, so take me as I am; wash away

my sins with laughter and caresses; shield my

eyes from suffering the madness locked inside;

And when the storm comes,

Gather me in beneath your canopy; and lock me

in the vault of your love; do not let me go,

outside; keep me safely held until the morning

light;

And love me the way you always have,

even through the darkness of the rising tides;

drown me not in the sea, but in your bosom;

and let the world spin lashes down upon me,

but do not let them harm me.

Be my shelter for to fall in, tonight.

In this grove, the hollow of my head concedes;

and purrs; a whirlwind spawns to shield out

all my fantasies; and it grows. The utter

silence of my vindicated dreams; spawned out

as sapphires beneath the shade; and you curl

in completeness of form, and you regain a shade

of consciousness I've never before beheld,

What world is this?

I've captured all my pearls and let them drop,

yet you remain; a holy vow. Sacred in all forms

of conception; I will behold you in the darkness

of our dreams; and stay awake, wondering if this

is reality;

In the isolated chamber of my writing; I see you,

waiting as you once did; for my touch; and I

assure you this is reality; unlocked and unloosened;

Regret madness for taking hold of me, and I regret

the desolation I have caused within our marriage;

let bygones be; and let the new anticipitory gaze

be enough to hold us together.

And you are gone again,

within my dreams a shadow;

and everything is incomplete; and fading into black,

When you arise from the darkness of my mind,

and into waking; where thoughts bleed effortless,

and the tongue comes clean; even still I take my time

believing what is real from what was kept up in my

imaginary room; the phantom flyers and the acting

circus who belched fire through the place;

And of chaos' collective surgery; incitement on a hill;

I'd like, sometimes, to shut it off ; shut it all off;

the dreams' intoxicating breath; it's too much for me.

What does the red look like; what is its touch;

and your legs, how they've grown on me, even though

they haven't grown that much,

Our lives, my life spent in a cave consuming words

without reading; the ramblings of an echoed substance,

I haven't yet obtained the taste of;

What do our lives amount to, in the end of everything;

the plain lives of two people trapped in a house,

letting loose my fantasies for a taste of freedom;

what good can come of this remainder;

So I pick my scabs, reminding me of my place,

and I pick yours well within the boundaries

of a safe provision; and we come into each other's

arms and dash a volume of love between the sheets;

and sleep against each other through the darkness.

The live wire seductive as it is, stands ready

for shock treatment; massage therapy; the folding

back of skin; and torture's place, among the rampant

hours of youth spent trembling; I want to dine tonight

without the thought of this;

But it's been burned in me; in the sleeping side of

dreams; I cannot displace the feeling, that I'm to be

tormented once we part.

A sleek drop, a candid complaint about the cooking;

another wobble through the village streets;

and with the edge of my mind; in the edges of my thoughts;

I want to wake up and have an escape; but there is none;

it's simply one and one; and neither can be proven;

so take one or the other; and hope you've swung the right way.

With weeks between the madness, and a temporary

sea of cool water; to dive in. And me with you;

between sheets, scouting for some semblance to

behold, some long lost theme to thread between us;

when the icing has been folded through the mud;

Your face a welcome sight;

Straying through the boundaries of mind,

and your shadow falls completely as it had;

to suckle my soul through the harshness of

the night; its scented lights grow dim

tonight as my brain is bleeding from the

scenes upon it in the dark;

Hold me, over and put an edge between my

skin; cut the darkened parts out for my

suffering to end.

With walks our hand in hand conclusion through

the night; and several flying faeries burning

within reach; the punt kicks shallowly into our

depths, as we surrender coldly to the midnight moon;

Your curse and my curse; are we forever stained,

without another chance at heaven's grasp; if so,

let us live completely pure; to regain what it was

that had been lost to us; I, for my part; will

wander through the yard and pledge allegiance

to the flags of the dead god and his angels;

Forthcoming tonight will be a flag itself;

burning brightly with the hymnals of the fallen;

Let us find what love is in its entirety;

hold out our hands and pluck each other

from the waste; and when we've said our words

again; and laid down another vow before the throne,

Let us cool it off without a meeting; and sing

the songs of peaceful entropy displaced;

We slide into the mind's edge; where feeling

wanders, such an incomplete passage through

the wasteland; and I hold you there, while you're

gone from me; and drink the blood from your

lips; drowning; I am drowning in the sea,

And all that's left of me is but a waste;

Save me, with your kiss in isolation of a moon;

come back to me; and tell me how we'll see

tomorrow's sky, because I can't believe it

anymore; it's lost to me, the movement of the night;

Let the clear blue sky of day in,

let it linger like a taste upon the tongue;

and tell me, sweetly how we'll live to see

another day like this when all the breath of

living has been taken away.

When in the sea, its mighty jaws and teeth;

surrounding me, and to your voice I see

the shadows lighten; dimmed darkness at the end

of a translucent rainbow; speaking signs

and prophecies in the night;

I like the way you move the sea;

Your salt-split lip and everything you do here;

And when collision of a star seems like emptiness

manifest through divnity's reason; I shed a tear

and wonder what will come, in the hereafter;

And with my voice receding into the end,

and with my writing hands, I've come to collect

the worser parts of me;

In you I die; and resurrect my sinkhole heart;

as if you were a stepping stone placed down;

for me to tread upon.

Is this a pattern, or a dark hold upon my tongue;

every which way, it looks as words entangled in a

stream; and you the center; it's pleading in the dark

for some strange corpuscle of light to bleed in;

And when it does; we fall apart, together.

Dreams and fantasies; foul liquid streams,

the better for to place a hand and sink into

the blackness; but your hand holds; and when

the hour of my dismal dreams reminds me of my

fate, I call on you to soothe me from the night's

ensnaring voice;

You are my stronghold; my solid foothold;

my grasp within this severed mind of mine,

and so I say what words I can to remind you

to love me through the end; despite what

vicious things I've done.

A stare, and incompleteness of a kiss; but you

lack nothing, in my mind you capture all my

tears and let them free on stars' cursive paths;

they seem but trifles in a dark night.

Resonating skin holds me under;

and under your curves where I belong,

the night is not so terrible a place;

Let's free ourselves of our religion,

and captivate ourselves in youth's

apparent charms; without the need for

drink or smoke's revival.

Dash a bit of hopeful dreaming,

and the innocence of sin's regained

forgiveness; in isolation's purr,

in the stout rotting smells; we'll

find some other way, to get us home.

The sink; and the spout,

and where we place our hands to turn;

it levels out, and love has found a place;

To turn;

And when the running water flows,

I keep my promise; to abide as one,

and when the purging of the sink sputters;

I dream in symphonies; all cluttered

like the chaos in my mind; and you; clean

cool water, ever flowing.

Take me into your mind; and let me see

the clear blue lines that draw you here;

when life's shadow comes over me; and the

mysteries of heaven are unveiled; and demons

drown me in their pools of murky nightmares;

Hold my hand,

take up a plea with heaven;

to unveil the crispness you hold

within your mind; and shed a light

on me, so I may breathe.

And so the flight to other shores keeps

revolving through my head, it's spinning

endlessly about the need for patience

and of love; the lost causes claim me

in my sleep, and say the burning is

but a mile away; and so I close the door

and try to think of lighter matter;

And you;

Because you keep me sane when all the world

is crumbling; and insanity finds her foothold

through the dark passages of mind's corruption;

I drink the wine of my diluted sins,

against you; and I purge them up through

sinking lips unloosed beneath the bed sheets;

Come upon me; in the darkness,

shine your unnamed heaven in my midst;

we'll call a claim for us; beneath the ocean.

Without your face, without the spaces we can

consume with our breathing bodies; without

the light to linger on the tongue, what would

conception's grasp be like; without the grip

of you, standing in the midst; and I liken you

to the wind in her sweet calling; an angel

dashed upon a stone to bleed; and you have bled

at my hands plenty;

And to this foul corruption of my soul,

I say my sorrows; I speak in dark tones; and plead

with you forgiveness; weak in mind and body;

bleeding at the seams of my own contrivances;

Let contraception leave her mark; let the blood

plainly pour out upon the planes; but save me

in your grip; and in your calling voice cry out

for me, in the darkness of the night;

Bleed once more; your breath into my lungs;

and hear my sorry cries echo down your throat.

Desire lurks within the shallows of my heart;

and in it, the dust of our collection,

where you instill your harmony in my side;

stitched remains of envelopes containing lust;

and the fragrance of a man-made shelter;

Collide with me,

Capture an instillment of the night's sky;

we'll lean upon each other's for and pray

while making love beneath the roof of heaven;

Sour milk spills but you contain the cure,

for its disposal; rock me to sleep, as if I

need another wink tonight; but rock me anyways;

And in the shadow of a fog; we'll sleep together.

The laughter of the wind; help me find it,

and the light-hearted spin of being in love

the first time, my heart is dried up with all

this madness in my mind; and hoping for some

place to call its own;

Forever, with a patch of time,

Soothe the fantasies; these small, enticing bouts

of dream I can surrender to; hold my hand and

drench me with your kiss; entitle me a dream

that won't surround me in the darkness of my mind;

Play the strings; and soothe the transition

into your grip.

Let the fantasies play out their course;

and encompass me with your assaulting eyes' gaze.

The wheels spin more slowly than at last,

a slow surrender to your gaze; and calling blasts

seize a severing of pain; from my lips, to yours;

And so the fog of wealth; and so desire's stickly

sins remain, and in my mind is held the rapture

of our passion's hold; so serene a call to our

destruction.

A simple, blissful silence; subsuming earth's

allotment for a blade of grass; and to it,

the turning of a wheel; its spinning sound;

Rupture my mind; but don't let it consume me,

bleed out the boils and heal the scars;

let the night's fantastic flurry of demonic

dreams arise; and draw them out; that we

may be mistaken for our god.

And let the night rupture; and day to break

as dawn.

My sane surrounding, encapsulate me; in your hold

and drown me with a fever of patience; I am impatient;

and my mind whirls about with insistent gnawing;

for desirous claim, for hellish fire, I burn, even now

I'm burning; and passion cannot be drowned by simple

means;

Show me patience; show me love;

And care, show me how to rock the body slowly in the dark

and let the demons disappear; save me to surrender

for this life is but an inkling to the whole of god's

existence; save me there, and let us claim our own throne;

Dried up in dark spaces,

wearing nothing but my sins;

approaching the end of life's

interrogation; help me blend

my hands into a purer stain.

Wash me clean of insanity's caress; and teach me

to care when wings beat, and the air is full of

joyful laughter; we can play beneath the oak and

in the ashes of our bones, when summer comes.

Rest with me, and teach me all the tricks you've

learned, to keep the demons of our past from mind;

and to sleep without a worry of the nightmares

that take hold; and consume my mind.

Love; is what we carry

And my weight is not enough to enter heaven's gate;

my foul mouth; my miscarried lies; deceit,

surround me as I weep in sleepful sin; so seduce me,

with the plight of angels; and drown me in a dream

of heaven's grace; show me how to pass the test

of empathy without regret; show me love.

And we will carry on,

with wings; into tomorrow's perseverance.

Instilled in this enclosure of a marriage;

with open wounds, and fresh cuts bleeding,

we seem to breed an air of isolation,

a dead grip; but our hands are clean,

and the redemption of our scars takes

priority; help me clean the wounds; and

seal our vow;

I do.

My words bleed to the edges of the page;

Descend upon me, like the night;

and crave my body; let the flesh

divine serve its purpose; for love's

sweet bite;

Reign in the terrors of my mind,

and keep the craving of my desires

pure; hold my hand, and in ecstasy;

devour the darkness holding me down;

Raise your flag upon the surface of

my skin; and reign supreme;

Call out the angels in their glory;

as we make love beneath the moon.

Deep inside the dreams that you've abandoned me in;

where darkness descends so completely through the mist,

an isolation of weeping and of mourning;

when all the lights turn off and daylight cannot

be found; I want to touch your hair;

make you mine within the dream tide,

and have you save me from the plot of land;

I'm left to wallow in;

To drop down from heaven's place and scatter

the demons drowning me; and for my sins to

vanish on the wind; and we can cease howling

to the unnamed gods, but find a perfect place

to worship in;

Where angels remain;

where repentance claims

our skin; and at our back

the purchase of redemption.

So serene a thought where canaries brew;

like lightning bugs into the night's abandonment.

The incompleteness theorem of our love,

and how we lack the motion of divinity;

we can correct only so much to make it last

for a time before the stain sets in;

So let us bring to table another drink;

and dine upon each other's flesh for an hour,

when the thirst rips through the stomach;

we'll capture a glass of enmity and soured milk;

To test the truth of love's submission,

in spite of everything we've read and bled for;

wash yourself in the stain of my sins; and remember,

While holding hands beneath the moon;

I'll dance only so long before I pass out;

and you'll be here, alone.

Hopeless, without you in my arms.

Upon the earth, with you; in a last blast of judgement,

where what will seem a trial is carried out;

refusal to believe is no option; because the cards

are bent, ready to be thrown into the fire;

My patience does not believe; but mania insists;

it is real. The pouring bucket; wells up and

the throw is so icy cold; but for the purging

of my sins; I want to sacrifice my whole;

Let the communion raise its arms to me;

And you; while we were raising up a fire,

and blowing wind upon its form; raising it up;

The comfort that befell was not worth anything;

but in the comfort of our patience where we abide;

Tears for the strangers;

tears for the night;

a heart for the passage;

and god's genocide.

What signs I've seen;

What mania, what madness!

Calling from the light and the dark;

the crystal clear methods of insanity,

pouring through my face, and through my head;

And to this life, which means nothing in the end,

I scream, "Surreal!"

It takes a drop of dew

upon a blade; to make the

sound of life so real

that I can taste the grass.

In this incessant fog of mind; I'm drowsy

and in the dark I cling to some resemblance

of your form, without the bleeding edge

of pain to taste the cuts I've suffered;

Mind's awash in insanity's array, and I can

feel it slipping into a black nest; where venom

purges all the rest of calm;

So take me under your umbrella;

show me what life is like without

the calling of the dark inside me;

Lay it out on the table;

so we can eat the leftovers

of a sane mind.

Within these lies I've told; in sweet corruption

of my soul, where the tainted parts go

to sour up my sins; I've bled you with a prickle

upon the skin; I've soured your buds and still,

you wanted in;

And god would hear the pains;

If there is a god to hear the pains of angels;

and to feel the blood I've spilled upon the soil;

So without doubt I've dreamed of hell for it,

and seen the consumption of my body;

I've drowned in fire.

And the ashes come up from the flames;

I hang my head, and douse what's left in gasoline;

Don't let go of me;

I need a taste of salvation.

Bury me in your bosom;

and tell me how safely you will hold,

onto me as fate unfolds; I will believe you.

And when my tears begin to fall like rain,

when nothing comes after in my dream;

when the world stops, and at its close;

I wonder what will become of me;

Dry these awful thoughts I have;

of hell and heaven and the rest of the

religion; wipe them away;

And tell me something beautiful.

The close cut to where stability ceases;

I've been there; and my mind is a mess.

And I cry, "Mercy!"

Though you are not an angel;

you are the closest thing I've come to know

resembling one, even with our dark beginnings;

And how you set my soul to tumbling under.

When in the darkness of my worst collapse,

you held your steady hand in mine,

that was the holiest collage of souls

I have experienced; and you mark

A new beginning each month;

To wash the filth of our misgivings clean,

and the Sock of the Month Club persists;

so we can clean ourselves of our pasts.

Mark this month clean;

and let's pursue tomorrow's claim.

Rejections came as a surprise, while walking

through the reasons of assumption's soul;

and sordid salt had flavored the resurrection;

A cherry taste;

And with a bit of coersion, it was given you

to hold onto, while I was intoxicated by my

misfortunate surrender; and you claimed it;

within yourself you gave in to the quarrel,

And love collides;

We wash ourselves of madness and emotion's

potent edge; and crown ourselves victorious

for a day, or two, or as many as you like;

but I worry for the end, even now; as the

bitter taste consumes me;

Calm me, and carry me through;

and let tonight be just a drop of dew;

to drink the earth's and heaven's worries

away. For a while, beneath the shade of your kiss.

What kept us from destruction when the sirens sung;

and keeps us now, within each other's arms,

the grey ash has fallen, and the world spins at my feet;

I've come here to collect a piece of you I need;

And it's a long way down;

Into the shadow of my mind's corrupted synapses;

flee with me, in this world help me see the brightness

of the day; and help me fly; I don't know if I've

ever known the feeling of spring air beneath me,

or the taste of rainbows, glistening on the tongue;

But in your arms,

And in your ever-steady grace; I feel a completeness

of being; hold your soul out to me, that I may feel

the bumps and bruises I've inflicted; that I may see

compassionate love sketched out upon the surface

of its skin;

Breathe once, with me;

Beneath the ashen flames; so I may show you

the madness I have gained; and let the darkness

fall, help me regain a semblance of my sanity.

And when the moment comes to blow our final

kiss into the night sky; arms enfolded in

each other's flesh, I'll take it as it is;

Two lovers with a mixed-up history;

And there will be no cursing, or swearing

at death's calling; you'll be my comfort,

to shed me into tomorrow's light;

And all insanity will be purged for this short hour;

I'll look on you with simple eyes; searching

for your steady grace; an angel's contemplation

of our peace;

Serene interruption to a tangled mess of disease.

Anxiety; it holds me under and I can't breathe;

the faint echo of your voice can creep but cannot

find a foothold, and so I'm left to sit in agony;

Within the confines of my spaces;

And I want you here, watching over me;

holding me in, and not letting go,

dreamer of the light, enticing childish plays;

When you walk; in.

Everything turns a brighter shade of pink;

the darkness fades away; the cavity of deconstructive

thinking; purged with your kiss.

Like the shadows playing puppet on the wall,

you are my puppeteer; forcing out the haunted

dreams with child's play.

It's not the moon that holds me as I sleep;

nor the sun that surrounds my mind with bleeding

ecstasy; yet these two are real,

as real as you; How can you contain my blood?

The difference is in our likeness; I think,

it's plain enough; and so to capture the

essence of being in love, must one see

himself echoed in the dark?

But you're not like me,

our shadows ripple in opposite direction;

And I don't want to contemplate the truth of things;

I want to lie in a bed of straw;

at the ocean's edge, with you;

To drown ourselves in the motion of the waves.

When the mood strikes, hard into the lungs,

and the face bleeds a shade of grey;

Seduce me.

Hold me in, and under; beneath the waves;

until the shallow water melts me away,

And into you.

Shame me for the things I've done to you;

and drip the venom of my past over my flesh;

help me erase my destiny, and encompass

me with your seductive power; praise the god

that's marked me with this sinful stain;

and erase insanity's parade from out my mouth;

To keep our claim.

When the world shines black; keep me company,

and help me to escape this madness.

The world will swallow us both,

and cast us into ash and fire;

there is no hope of our returning from the grave;

not intact; not like who we were, before entering;

So when we say goodbye; it is forever,

until then, let's let death meander meekly

through our path; to catch a taste of what

she has in store for us;

When the compost heap is filled with our remains,

Love lies lost;

Love lies at the bottom of the ocean,

and there's no salvaging it;

so let it scream its savage cry of surrender,

and let it bleed, into the sea.

What changed the distance was a bad dream;

is it fate, or just a glimpse of inconsistency

in the fabric of space and time; or was it you,

and my longing for another spot of ecstasy;

to fill my voided heart;

Can we complain;

Or should we roll back time, and make amends;

some other way, while the sensory outlet pays

its due;

Far ahead lies the unknown mystery,

when realization comes of what will be;

the ant and the mosquito call their claim,

among ourselves; and who will be the greater;

All are fair as angels, all are demonic plagues;

In our perspective of the world, as it changes.

Scenery changes in an instant; and I'm critiquing

my life through other lenses, without the thoughts

of madness in the mix; this simple cure; to cut and paste

the pieces of my mind, without the mixture bleeding in;

You warrant my new perspective;

And it's agreed; there is no place for a traditional god

in heaven or on earth; or in the hellfire under;

there's too much frosting and not enough cake to make it

plausible; and yet I dream of hell's interpretation in my

mind; and it bleeds me dry.

What good is god if everything must burn;

there must be a balance; and an eternity to channel our

frustrations with the universe.

When the seas cease; and when the clouds no longer pour;

when the earth divides into fragments, and the sun splits;

Still will be life.

Ours may be a fragment; a fold in time,

so let's tread lightly on one another;

because the past hasn't been palatable.

Today is the day.

Welcome to the passage of a life;

complete with contrary sedation of the mind;

its leftover parts mingled and on fire,

working overtime to stitch together pieces

of a lullaby;

You wash my sins;

And entertain the fact that my heart has sunken

to new depths through the motion of a broken mind;

the urges I have felt keep me alive;

The dew drops.

And in isolation for my sins, I catch a star;

a falling bit of joy to keep me company in the night;

but it's a false star, and we both bleed for it;

pain lingers on the tongue, and while I stray to catch

another star; you cry the rain of season's change,

and threaten to betray our sacred vow; to leave me

destitute and without love; all for the sake

Of a star.

In sleep, in dream;

the gaze of evil held upon my face;

and I can't swim to you,

and I can hardly move;

The still water bites me;

like a plague of vicious insects;

And I can't make headway;

even without a tide, a current;

just a still, cool water;

Drowning me.

There's life outside, our reunion of souls;

and when the murk dries up; and you show me the sky,

we'll bleed together in a puddle in my mind's

eye; slowly sinking where we can still catch

breath; slowly facing one another's grief,,

And so to sing our holiday's delight;

Dressed in fire and the passions of the night,

we'll dream of sour milk spilt and cleaned;

up the right way for our shelter's prose to

play;

Remember in our youth the way we captured

every moment with a camera; still after still;

I still love the way you sound.

What winter yielded; what summer spewed,

and when the green grass dies; I know the moment

has passed, that you and I should share;

When feelings of the heart are under-estimated;

and caught on the glimpse of an arc; past two;

I see you standing there, without the face

of another tied up in your skin;

Left for dead, I'm traveling;

Between stages of a broken mind; I'm mulling over,

this time and that, hoping to break things down;

A simple creature; a simple span of time,

marked down on the pages; for the mind's retirement.

A slight prick of the finger;

and the blood yields my insanity,

see there the droplet falls;

not far, but close enough for your

inspection;

Gaze.

And wonder what the mind beholds at night;

between sheets; its severed artery complains,

at the night sky; bleed me dry.

And let the valley of the dead receive me,

with open arms; unless our fates entwine;

could you catapult me into shelter, and take

the divine step; care over me through heaven's

descension; in the corners of the night?

Right, before the setting of the hour;

in another language written on the sun,

her feet suppress the demons of the earth;

A field study in paranormal;

The conclave of the seven;

immortal gods, entrusted with the keeping

of our faith; and to arouse.

Watching in the half hour;

split by our infatuation

with the seven sins; and their

remainder; to compliment

the ties of virtue and of pain;

Insignia signed and broken,

and parted like the rest;

Dragon's blood and angel's stewing sounds;

Corrupted cycles of discordant

resonance.

The score of restful malnutrition; of the soul's

ensnaring path, teach me; how to walk the way you

walk in circles through the darkness; without a

care for uncertainty of life's entanglements,

rock my body soft to sleep, so I may dream of

lighter matter;

Carry me into the sun;

Where scars don't bleed when scabs succumb

to the breakage of their flesh from picking at

the wound.

And a slight interruption;

To the fevered song; I will, I want; to escape

into the night and hear you singing; with

golden fur bristling on your skin; a lioness'

sleek form to keep watch over me;

Be my strong arm;

To shelter me from these nightmares.

The menstrual blood collects and pools beneath

my pillow; seed lost, requirement of age; she

leaves by the way, to cost me everything I've

let down guard for; even love's static embrace;

Calm me down; collect

my broken pieces in the dark.

An even fast; and even faster than the last night

we held hands; beneath the shade, and far from

light's manifested flames; you told me a story,

the same one you always tell; but with new flavor

to keep it fresh, young and alive;

With bait.

Read me a semblance of a story;

to wash away the terrors of the night;

with salt and sponge; I'll take my bath,

with you; here among the ocean's scenery.

I hold in my hands; the key to everything

I have fought for in life; a purpose, and a goal;

What makes life meaningful;

an astute mind; preoccupied,

with substance and matter;

What matters.

Defined in lines of works of art;

prepared for definition in a broader base;

a compass and an hour of your time;

consuming matter, means and what is left

of disease;

You matter more to me than

this intrepid fire's spark;

I want to hold you madly through the midnight hour.

This is the ultimate sacrifice; bent to steal

the undying from this world, into another;

And he keeps peace,

How he keeps peace with the sword and with

a shifting of his steel; how he keeps peace.

And so there must be no god; or no peace

to be found; if heaven is a place for warfare;

I've found peace in your arms; or is it

loneliness' patch to fill my neglected soul;

either way, love's patience and kindness of

words must it not surpass the threatening with

fire and the blade; a mother's touch, an infant's

receipt.

Hold me out your head; into the flames,

and pour me down your cool water; I thirst.

Keys stroke; my fingers allow the fragrance

of my mind to soak into yours; allows for a time

the blending of our thoughts; coalescent sap to stick

and seep; into the waters of your pond;

What world do you swim within;

And is there room enough for two, to take the plunge;

I want to coalesce in your purer parts;

not just at night beneath the bed sheets,

but in your mind, without a thought of

anxiety, despair; this madness I have felt for ages;

Drop your clothes.

Let me taste the flesh of your adornment;

and even so; let me come inside you.

To where we fold our sheets; and hang our heads,

lowly in the night, when creatures call;

to where the found dog bites and the dissonant

bird sings her lonely tune; well into midnight;

And into daylight;

Screaming your name without a care for who may

think a thought of the loudness of my cries;

for you to come to me; now, and pray upon my bed;

heal my head of the dark powers at work within.

You cannot complete my madness;

only suffer it a while, what's

mine is;

mine, after all.

What come, what may;

and in the night devour me in sleep;

dream isn't reality, so why is my head splitting

from the noises of my nightmares;

And you can't capture me,

to rescue me from these monstrosities;

Although I'd love you to;

The night brings terror and disruption

to my sleeping; and so I wake with these

spits of acid on my skin;

Trying to dry them off;

Trying to capture a piece of what it means

to be me, in this reality; what are my promises;

and resolutions, what is my fate in this life?

If only to be with you;

it is enough.

Reality plays through my veins, and on my skin;

while in my head, I'm frightened; on a cloud

corrupted by the stain of sin and doubt;

what fires beneath the surface; what layers

of blood and ash preserve my melting corpse;

And you; the fantasy for my survival;

What happens when the cool waters drift away;

and no moistness can be felt for all eternity;

the dry spell; driven on by fears and terrors,

Terrible night walkers speaking through dreamscape;

I want escape; I want what's real to stay; I want

To cling on and hold tightly; To you.

A night, and peaceful in the darkness;

this driving lack of spiritual communion

at its end (for now) and grace allots

her simple stillness for my surrender,

You have captured me;

In the white light of simplicity's awareness;

when broad sweeps do not abound but loving arms

enclose the spaces; nightmares cease to be

so strong a hold; I am captivated by you.

Come what may tomorrow by the night;

I've peaceful living for an hour,

and into it; I rest my weary eyes.

The blame is not yours nor mine; but more mine

than yours for my discordant sheath of sleep;

my failings and my falling into the darkness;

where dreams take root, and the yellow bird flies.

Snow melts, and in the summer of my disbelief;

I'm found to be watching my back for condescending eyes;

Easy living takes me back a glance;

it makes everything I've had seem so much

less worth the bill; where was the hard life,

the pain for things I had no control over;

an isolated song sung in the darkness,

because the world's been unfair;

But I; and mine;

have been mostly the good life;

not perfect, but the good life;

and so why is it fair to say

a thing; to someone with a really

rotten bad life; to say to them

anything, about what life is;

Close communion has its way

of inviting shadows in the dark;

Dreams can tell the spilling

of our psychological state.

The water is wet, and full of tears;

to drink the madness locked inside,

I slip my glass beyond the surface layer,

So much mind can take before the breaking;

And into darkness slip away,

like snakes into the grass;

just slip away; and cause

the night to shadow over;

Help me burn away these saddened eyes;

and face from its encompassing seductions,

let the wind of your voice utter incantations

through the night and burn away my own tears,

through its sentiment.

About the dancing princesses in print;

and all the good things we've grown up with,

the simpler stories; here they do not exist,

nothing simple exists, and life is complicated;

Its reach extends through the sphere,

and patience has only so much sway over us;

as we perceive the world within our minds;

Why Passion is so bright;

The painful coming to reality; is crushing me,

And another song, another poem; cannot reach

the temperature of foolishness and death,

I have surrounding me;

I need to wash up on the shore and find my footing;

With your help.

The fluidity of thought is broken up in pieces

with my body; so much incest of wordplay;

and to complete my desire's hold on me,

a different place to drop my so-called

remedy in flames;

You seduce me;

Keeping me calm in the torrential rain;

and so the song remains; four species,

drowned in the gully, four bitter tastes

of pain; and one unsung hero; dashing about

With glee;

You cannot save me; but I would have you as

my savior in an instant; what saves a soul

from these nightmares overcoming me?

The hold, it feel compelling; where you've been

and where you're heading; and to the mysteries of

god, who art in heaven and hallowed be his sentence

To die.

Fluorished fields cannot remember his name;

but who am I to judge the imperceptible pattern

of his coventry; or hollow out his holdings

here on earth; a church on nearly every block,

designed with the intentions of feeding the hungry;

and clothing the poor. And instilling christian values

on its congregation;

What is valuable; what purity of soul can bring me

closer; tell me, holy ones.

While we pray to the god of pie and cake and pizza;

and we talk about sports; not scripture.

There is no god here; not in this church.

Flying high with a violent surging notion

running through my mind's edges; a capture

and a king for the nations; what world is this,

come edging through the dark of mind's desire;

a bleeding cesspool of drowning dormant lies;

So, take up a spearhead;

Collect the misery that's transpired,

transplanting it into dreams fit for the dead;

to drink in upon their passage;

No more secrets in the dark;

No more of marriage and of love;

just mere existence.

Hold me back; lover,

drink me into you; and let the foulness

of these diseasing memories no longer

break me into submission.

What will wait at heaven's gate;

when we've sung the ballad of our lives;

and death becomes us,

In our waiting for the day of the last supper,

when contemplation of our sins will make no matter;

and the days no longer turn to night,

And the devouring force of death,

consumes.

Wait, a while longer; my equality of form;

my married mayhem; wait!

It won't be long now to the passage;

come ride with me; rise with me

into the death we were destined to partake of.

Eat.

What life is worth;

and in the shadows of my doubts,

I call onto a collected sphere of truth,

but find no answer there.

And when the house is robbed,

and purchase of our soul complains;

what season has remained; but only darkness;

For in truth, everything fades away,

even the good things; but decay forms

into new life; so from the ashes,

Satan should arise; and take his place,

upon the throne;

Mercury melts and then the swooning stay;

and open the doors to hell,

to make the fire and molten lava

play its part within the eternal glory

of heaven; how can the wicked be saved?

Say it now,

there is no place for me;

within this ever lasting field of fire.

Save the flames.

Innocent rebellion against the calling of our fate;

and truth denied a victory against its stand;

severed days as numbered one through five; the work

week without the holy days;

As numbered, one through five; and calling on the clock

as its imposterous face fortells, a rhythm to this

madness of form and fury; tick; tock; tick; tock,

And when the claim comes; night will follow suit,

and when the day comes; all will be thrown into chaos;

Split lips and soured tongues;

And a sweetening of the senses;

for those who go through heaven's gate;

if such a place exists,

If such a holy shroud contains our destiny.

A specimen of your sins; for extraction and

introspection; interrogation, dissection.

What longings belong in the mind of a woman;

what piecemeal parts are hiding inside of me,

And to the hour of my disappearance,

let us drink a cup; "To sin!"

to recollecting of an hour past dawn,

and to the destruction of a soul.

A mighty wind with focus;

pulls out a tree; and so I'm

not so rooted as to keep my ground;

Rot, decay; dust.

Settles for the higher peaks;

and valleys not so synonymous

with their misfortune;

Plain to see the sceptre turn,

where my misfortune leads her.

What shade of death should I draw up,

while collapsing into molecules,

and folding back into space and time;

how will I be remembered; and for what span;

A pertinent eye casts glances at the forthcoming

reuinion of our worlds; and so, when shadows form

on substance other than our entire;

trust in gods to bring about the shift;

Soft slumber, a restful piece of day;

only to elude the senses with tomorrow's

anticipatory presence; I stitch together

pieces of my mind's edge; to keep the thoughts

from overflowing, and far into destruction's

gaze I ride; catching a fast glance,

Come with me,

we'll meet over the sea.

In the isosceles grip; where none can touch

the ceiling or the floor, and remembrance is

a touch away from death; feelings captivate

toward descension's door; I wander aimlessly;

Your bright perception;

And the flowing to another design of heaven;

what a boundless wondering body of light,

mystery of the unknown; a dour and dreary

dream that beckons;

Reflections purged out upon the water's surface,

regained in flight; these particles of being,

once more retained and unforgotten.

What wakes from the darkness is our delight.

Entitlement to change; forever wonder

what we were; and then to carry over,

and to spill the self-denial of our past;

Wake-up calling, through an hour and

misfortune's falling days; numbered

by the marks and scattered through the maze;

when pieces fall, and this instruction book

can't begin to make any assembly possible;

We look to other methods to make amends;

we seek survival of the soul through different

means; we mark the essence of our failings,

and change through time's required instruments;

We purge the catastrophic;

Serene guilt, and dirty pleasures.

The closing statement; serene call to claim,

it's bent on hellfire; it saves, it does not

exist in the soul's shadow. What cycle of our

youth is spent in waiting; watching how we all

fall down; hell is a serpent and a watchful

predator, and can there be escape from its jaws;

When night concludes her song,

And day springs forth with fresher coats of paint;

we draw into our enclosures; our caves, to dream

what may become and to whom we'll be enslaved

for another hour;

If angels can pass into destruction's grip,

then the membrane cannot hold out the repentant damned;

curses come and pass; what will be will not always

hold true; the slaves' circumference ebbs and flows;

The tidal of the damned.

Discomfort stains the curtains, and the heart's

a melody in the making; rampant prints of ice cold

water, drowning little fireflies; ten million

stand to take collective count of sins; and the

brigade will pass; will shed its skin, in the ocean's

depths;

So much for the cascading doubt of hell fire;

And so much more for sticks and stones placed on a port,

pertaining to the lack of our disruptive mouths;

whispering small secrets toward the ocean; you pass,

while I prod on the living; our disease is your

central heating, coming on strong and toward surrender;

This hour;

Falling into shades of blue, the ocean calms;

and sweats; profusely.

The motion's end, where death meets new beginnings;

a thousand walk upon the shore each day to greet

the sun in its descent; and there they find their will

to be reclaimed, in wanting or in the flame of decay

we'll stride into the sea;

Come what may;

And ever after becomes the stay of our new hand,

within denial's grip to be flayed and scoured

by the sun in her new rising; or be reclaimed

To roam the earth;

Paralyzed by this fear of resurrection,

I redouble my anxiety's display;

And denounce the god I have come to care for;

from a youth; to swaddle cloths with emptiness

a while longer; the three fold truth of the

trinity, devoured.

Three layers of cloth to purge the demons;

one skin for the night to roll upon me,

and while I wonder it's divinity, I watch

and gaze into the distance of the stars;

Heaven's light; the night encapsulated

by the sky; a prism for the particles to dance;

four eyes, as satellites; and one to see the flame;

Yet while mind wanders through the deep;

the dormant dreamer grows hungry for the feast,

and owl hoots, and the waves' domain crackles;

White water, and wet feet;

slaves to the tortures from above;

while the fortune goes, and comes; unsedated

dragons fly, and lightning curbs the beast;

It is time for the renaissance of souls.

Salvation in a skin; white as snow and plain;

Simple;

dressed as a lamb for the slaughter; and what

a slaughter it will be, a feast for the angels

to devour; come on high, and watch as Satan

has his way with him;

Cruel seductive power, to see a blood bath

such as this; a sacrifice to heaven;

Is it the end of all things, and the beginning;

what conquers all and ends the world's corruption;

Our stain of sin;

Let the face of dreams decide its integrity;

visions and ethereal realities;

where no concrete plans erupt,

this is the fortune of men,

to decide faith on fictions,

And build up castles in the sand.

Count out the ways to reach the end of time,

and bathe in the waters of divinity; to make a

stake and hold the claim; and seize

What matters lie in these;

Regalia, a bitter pill swallowed whole;

another supper, and the blast of cold

we're a fortunate pair for the summer,

Drowning in a bit of ecstasy;

With false doubts, uneven dreams; and the like;

small patterned footprints, folding into the ocean;

what warms our bed at night is the howling fire;

we cannot contain;

What misery lies under us;

if we should remain?

The melting of a world within a world,

and the free reason not to believe;

if what comes after still requires blood

to be drawn from the veins of the damned,

What world is this;

Issuing forth a free nation under God;

when contemplation calls there may not be one;

The question and the answer has eluded scholars,

so who are we to claim our righteousness;

The serpent succumbs to sleep, and bitterness remains;

the dire dreaming of an age past ten; the bite.

Let the world bleed forth in anticipation;

and let the morning come,

To feed the unbelievers' ire.

Defending glass from its inevitable destruction;

it's like an hour past dawn with uninterrupted sleep;

but I can't wake up, and so my day moves droolingly,

I can see you but I can't find the words to talk;

Nothing's holding back my blame,

I'd like a pill to swallow; maybe two for in the morning;

the day drops sing; little balls of light and crisp,

resounding energy; to make the world brighter; but I'm

an age-old adage about sleeping through the noon time;

waking to the dusk fall;

And the clatter of the forks in the sink;

complain against my breathing;

I need to pick it up a notch.

In sleep; where the dreaming bangs away at the keys;

and not crisp, cool air; but fire awakens me,

I have to come in pools now, to collect my thoughts;

And feeling of transgression

keeps me warmer than I'd like; it drowns out the sea

where everything is bright and pure water;

Come to me, sweet angel;

in the dark room; come.

Seduce me with a statue of my peace;

and play pretend we're angels standing

on the wind, without a care of moment's

cause or dying of corruption;

Where is the blast of cold?

Lost in stuccato; where the seasons freeze;

and farmer leaves the herd out for the weather;

in the sacrificial fire; burning cows without

their mothers; and when the sirens play at night;

the airplanes driving by without surrender

in their minds; dropping bombs, and dropping hope

and light; the ashes roll on by and god has punished

us for alliegence to the wrong color of flag;

Fortune stands on shoulders to find her feet;

and the leg's kicking out, trying to see what it's

good for; and the patience of the meek carries us

under; what have we done to usher in this false

loaf of god's salvation; what have we done to

usher in his wrath.

And time comes, unpolluted;

when death's bell tolls,

and we waste away our lives

we have wasted everything;

it is the undiluted truth;

What is purpose?

What truth lies buried beneath the ocean

of the mind; what catastrophic fate is held

on the insides of the skull; waiting to be

unloosened;

When all hell breaks loose;

And the damage is uncontrollable; what of

salvation's cure, what of heaven and the angels

what purity of cause will then arise;

Douse the flames in gasoline;

And the purging of madness made complete,

when thoughts collect in dreams and the mind pools;

Let then the similitude of truth issue out the

dragon's mouth; and for purity to bleed.

What truth lies buried; and which obscured

by rooted pleasures, leaking at the door?

The shapes of innocent pretenders, calming the dark

shadows and the frost's consumptive spell;

enamored blessings, bitten by another walking death;

and seas fade into purposeless shells of sand;

drained of every drop that lay within;

And the whole of life fades into dressings

Lit by fire; and burned within the hot pan,

left to smoke; the ashes spent on reasons

we would become part of the greater purpose;

To life; where all what remains is for a season;

to life and death, entwined; what lasts forever,

is the process of resurrection and renewal;

for more destructive ends.

Music fades, in long bouts of a last gasp;

temptation sets in and claims the righteous;

another fading star, another season turned;

a distant memory unveiled before the throne,

Capture the reason;

In its far cry to pleasure the will of god,

it sings the lullaby of saints, its stark

misgiven form a signpost for the damned;

Drunken eyes, a dissonant holiday of youth's

endeavor; sink me in a ship and set the sails;

on fire.

In this wasteland of religion; I see but one truth,

god is unforgiving; and we are damned;

So let the music play.

Redemption of a body draped in flame;

forever young; and bleeding; in pain,

in filth of sins she shall remain,

tainted as the word was made flesh

through her womb; without her giving

love, without her holding on to this

seed; and she lies in the ruins of her

bedclothes; unshowered and unshaved;

Ghost lies with her;

Covered in the ashes of her stillborn baby,

Ghost lies with her;

She makes a sign as if to come,

and she will come to flames and fury;

Echoes of a virgin; impure and without

the seed of god inside her womb;

Four remain; and the season of the thunder

passes through, her eyes like fire; and her hair

dark black; she rides the escort carriage

Destined for the underworld.

Beneath the skin's broken wound; she festers,

taking in my steps, and lengthening my arousal;

a dimmed sin's desire struck loudly on a tuning fork;

Her resonating sound played all through the night;

And when I wake from slumber; she has spent her hours

dusting off the cabinets of our belonging;

not purging her mouth; but with her seductive eyes,

She grasps onto what she came for;

And my heart is twisted in this sin,

a permanent factor of not necessity, but desire;

And so I issue forth my seed;

and my remainder.

Desire's flame has all but been snuffed out;

and in my longing; for you, I dream the comfort

of a muse's melody; playing in my ears,

And it's a sad song;

wrapped with melancholy madness;

that only you can sing.

Feed me the whispers on the wind;

while I am drowning in despair's collective pool;

and throw in the pieces of your skin,

butchered off; and bleed for me;

When first light hits us;

we'll be out of tune,

in bed sheets stained;

And nothing will keep the dogs from howling;

to the moon, to the bleeding sky; into the night,

where the edge of principle lies naked;

Sew me up in shadows' string,

and lay me at your feet; and sing'

to let the dreams' lies wash over me.

In burning recollection, I see the voice of reason;

at the edge of my mind's collections; and you aren't

a part of my instruction; you aren't the fever that

burns; desire runs deep into your folded arms,

But I can't have you;

And it is this longing; this field of unknown pleasure;

untapped singing voices, bleeding in the dark pool,

I can cry; but it's no use; your peppermint mouth

is signed and sealed off to me; my misgiven fortune

turns to pain remembered,

And I am a slave;

Locked within my chamber, devoid of the lightness of being;

and succumbing to the fate for which I've been assigned;

So sever my chains; and sing,

demoness; my desire's song.

Without a formal cause, without complaint;

the rings of saturn's holiday be remiss;

an unknown portion, failing to cease; desist,

removal from the flame, and an injured paradigm;

Rolling heads, arousing minds;

A fraction of the past seems simpler to digest,

and so I sing in solitude; to her, my unknown muse;

where harmony's misgiven fortunes bloom; and the rest

goes forgotten, buried treasure seeking its release;

And poison stocks left buried in the mire;

keep me company on a still and lightless night.

What is produced in the night, and in the daytime bleeds;

another captured soul, an undying destiny of pain,

and so triumphant sing the angels up above; whose hurling

fire scatters on the plane of the unrighteous;

Blood and fire;

What the earth was made of before it was conceived;

and now, in the dripping song of flames, it is concrete;

No journey spent on heaven has been foretold; save one,

where there the lamb and father sit enthroned; even angels

fall; into the pit of flames, into the netherworld,

To be consumed;

Holy, holy God!

Devourer of souls.

What's threaded through is no consolation;

our arms remember; our arms contain the multitudes

of reason, and madness; and in our minds; collective

breeding pool of sentimental sin; draped with fire,

The ash stirs in the pot, with water to make a dirty mud;

"This is my flesh and blood;"

Consume; consumed by rage and outbursts like a flood,

drink; an everlasting covenant built by flames;

Surrounded and engrossed with souls of the undead,

a screeching chorus of demons; devoured by the light;

"Take this and eat; all of you."

The field of contempt for god; and for the reason

of recovery into belief in other gods, or none;

holding at a purchase price our salvation,

the deaf throne, which looks upon us without

a helpful hand to our entrance or our passage;

Willful doormat of destruction;

So who will succumb to the righteous way;

and who will pass into hell,

The fever stays; and sets in hard.

Drop two stones,

set them loose;

grow the fingernails to pick our lock;

Holy art thou, and wholly forbidden to look upon,

save for the lamb who holds the book of nails;

that all men gaze; and so it is written,

every eye shall see; even those who pierced him;

Unless it is children's stories; and fiction.

Fiction and fable; an abstract design,

so etched upon the mind as it were reality;

from story to story, sinking into thought;

the dream tide; and an unnecessary evil;

Sparked on, the flames begin to rise;

the serpent's head, severed;

Satan's army burning in the pit;

A forked tongue proclaims:

"God is dead."

And so the ancient scrolls

were lies.

The world is ashes;

Nothing remains.

Two cells collected, two bodies in motion;

and this is my turn to move you.

We round about through space and time; in seeking,

one another's stain; to settle in and play,

from dusk to dawn; in one another's chamber;

I lay my head between your legs and pray,

to the false gods and pretending isolation of my mind;

And to the darkness deep inside;

When fasting's done; we part,

and to the god between your legs,

I whisper every memory forgot.

The vicious cycle begins; its closed container

locked from within; and so the story repeats,

forever and ever. With one true god and a resonating

flame beneath him; all that glitters, in the end

is dust and ashes; pure silk fashioned for the flame;

I want to try and make him bleed;

But he won't have the scape goat wreathed;

I've blood and milk; but when the stew pot sings;

I'm left without a lamb to chop;

In so many words; we can't contain our purity;

but in so few, there's nothing to be said,

staple it out to the edges; and form a fist;

For God said, "Let there be hell."

And there was hell; and god saw hell,

and made it a place for the wicked;

And God made man in his image;

and looking in the mirror, he saw

that man was wicked through and through.

Cradled in the womb; you have me next to your body,

and in this delight of the senses, I purr;

Naked; we are touching one another;

Devout and holy sacrificial surrender;

I open up my world for you; spread my legs,

and to you bow and pray that you'll find me

forgiven; it shapes the way the mind tricks,

It calls upon the deeper, dark enchantments;

soured and soiled by the spells you have

contained in you; my watch, my unfortunate

pleasure; wrapped up in flames;

Burst me out from you; licentious whore;

and smother me in my desire; until the rapture

comes, until God has proven His existence.

Another viper's nest; another scourge,

and when the bleeding ends; it's to the sword's edge

so says the god of our repentant blood;

to the wall; and off, with the head;

Heathen gods fall,

try as they might to overcome him; the two towers fall,

and bleed into the ocean; where dead gods' graves are built;

Once, where the ascent took aim;

Satan's armies at the pinnacle of preservation;

a thousand whispered wars took place,

Deviants and dragons; the fair fall,

And an ocean of madness lay between us and the lord;

do you understand the truth;

Truth is simple, and it rebounds,

caught in a subjective form of reality,

The truth is lies all manifest.

The magic portal to a world not forgotten, but in ruins;

you seized me there, and drank a cup full of my blood,

and I'd left everything I had to be with you; in sin's

torment and in the bed of a false god.

Leaven and roses, and a yellow bird;

Who sings the ruination of my soul; who sings the ecstasy

of lovers, entwined with legs stretched out for intimate play;

you speak to me of love; and god, but all I see is loneliness;

You are the one who needs saving;

but it is I, who have the thread of

sin; the fire of hell within my dreams,

an unrestrained fire, burning off my flesh.

Consume me, in the rhythm of your pain;

and in a bottle labeled:

"God."

A dream with a drop of wine,

washed down with sea water;

and in the hearing of the council,

there's complaint; sin has been

aroused; three down and one;

When the saints come marching in,

they die a death by fire;

and when the absent angels arrive;

god comes to purge all of heaven,

for in his midst; no thing can be held

holy; and so the world burns; and heaven,

All of everything burns;

And you and I are destined for the flames;

so it goes; unless god's sacrificial host

heeds his promise; to have died for our sins.

Let us pray to whichever god suits our fancy,

because it seems there is no justice in heaven;

And in heaven salvation is for the damned.

The isosceles stays, and confounds me;

in this ever-evolving platform which we're raised;

who can approach the unknown and keep a semblance

of sanity;

Or require an answer;

The death toll has its place; and rings true,

for each and every one of our children;

and so life springs forth and dies;

Which is better; to taste death and live;

or simply live, no one knows, we all face it's

spire.

And you and I, in the interim;

struggle with the claim to my soul;

and yours; through the weight of the watchers.

Fraying thoughts from isolation's moon;

a deep collective mindset; still spinning

satellite, yellow machine; rift dream,

And contemplation comes; it hums, and does

the dirty work of spinning itself through

possibility; no other mode; no other mindset;

And when gravity pulls;

like gravity likes to do;

pulls it down to earth;

for the grounding.

A gentle tug, a whisper in the ear;

and two-toned paintings to ponder,

monochromatic scale; a simple song;

And the horse dies,

and I'm dreaming of the Anti-Christ;

in such a fever as to kill the poison;

but it doesn't die; it festers in the mind.

This madness; this insanity of being;

A fork, tied to an angel's back;

he's pitched it before; he will again;

and sending all the remnant to the slaying pot

For the stew;

Hemlock.

In the grove; without a customary dance,

we improvise beneath a shattered moon,

one step forward; in the direction of our sins;

and in the isolation of a father figure's mould;

we are cast out and buried;

Before the crowd.

A static pose; pretending to be

heaven's god; through the statues

and surrounding atmosphere;

The chants, the burning incense;

apparel;

How many saved through collection boxes;

united through ritualistic games;

Not I; not that way,

I see a false atmosphere;

not god.

Rings and reminders

that god is for the rich.

The Holy Bible;

Captured in its form for ages; constantly turning pages

plucking out the scriptures that do not contain the minds

of men; A sculpted thing,

And so do I believe; in this sculpted piece of art;

Of course!

It has aesthetic value if nothing else;

so many minds have sought the answers

to the unanswerable; in it.

Poured their lives believing in the unbelievable;

Drench me in it; make my mind a muddy place,

for children's stories scripted by the hands of men.

A morbid tale for men and women; of all ages,

snuck up with the sentences in disarray,

caught me unaware, and claimed my mind;

In my insanity; I took up parts,

proceeded to enact a shot of fashion;

in this mundane world;

And so when I creep beyond it's volume;

it catches me unprepared, through dream;

and assembling eyes; curses me,

For my madness; and my delivery;

Once or twice I'd come to say,

in the bitterness of this reality,

there must be something more;

And I believed in mathematics;

the higher planes of existence;

So now, with semblance fading;

I carry up the cross and set it on a pedestal;

for interrogation, not for mercy; not for grace;

but for reflection in the dark pool of the mind.

Lying in the ecstasy of your bed; off on a tangent,

off on a run, through the lights you gave me for

our wedding day; when we were young;

And so I gave you the pouring of my dreams;

when I was young and dreams were all I had,

the culprit to my interpreted reality,

smoke and mirrors held up to the sky;

dressed for dawn's reaction, dressed for

intimacy;

And you, my lover; sweet and wild,

claimed my soul in its descending plane;

Suffering for your embrace and for your claim,

We two, settled in our own separate worlds;

and spin another web of self-destructive fantasy.

A quiet incantation; a steaming pot of coffee,

two almost-strangers settling down to talk;

who am I; in this blast of cold deception,

and who are you, the muse of my affections;

Such a simple dance,

taught in grade school;

Love.

Affecting the intuition of our past;

what longing and desirous principles;

Our fast becoming lovers beneath the table;

Do we continue; or do we walk away,

ignited in passionate flame;

and burning, either way.

A serene part of my complexion, happens in chance

to stir the semen from the pot; and pray,

I pray to your incision;

And to the claim of heaven from your eyes;

Don't anticipate a renewal of form,

my head is drowned in an ugly mass of maddened decay,

and to your skin, I say the rosary prayer;

one last time;

Forever's just another name for temporal resistance;

with god and angels curing in the mixture;

what bends and doesn't break the mind;

in its ethereal insanity;

doesn't strengthen, but weakens my integrity;

A soul stance,

let us dance;

and pray another prayer

to this madness welling

Within.

In spite of prayer; let me do

to you the things I'm longing for;

and let the night bleed out on paper,

after we've completed isolation

for our cause;

When separation spills into containment;

What receiving pill of my embodiment,

fastened with cell walls and skin;

And blood.

The mercury rises;

and the chest falls hard and fast,

again and again; repeating beating

heart.

You love the way

we spill ourselves;

In prayer.

The teeming tide of my surrendered fate;

frothing at the lip of its deliverance,

a storm brews; and the angels of corruption

take me in; (they do exist here, in the depths

of my madness) and I plunge; down into the ice-cold

water; drinking madly my fill of toxic refreshment;

A dance; and a quiet solitude of time,

To remember by which way I have come,

within your skirts; where I adore you most;

within the hollow of your holding;

and by the door;

Sieve of Eratosthenes;

Sieve of Heaven;

Only the primes pass untaunted by the fire.

At the union of the tides, where there's corruption

of the mind's embodiment; all blood and ashes turn

an aesthetic symphony; two colors and the night,

we bathe ourselves in candlelight, and feast on

one another's flesh; two lovers and the night,

We call ourselves seduced; and drink the wine

of innocent frustration; we mark our bodies

dirty with the fire, we cleanse and scrub;

But there's no transgressive sin;

within this hour's celebration,

There is no god,

here, between the sheets.

State of being,

Sane.

In the tripwire romance of saints;

we wear perfume of the guardians,

to keep the demons at bay;

and chant a celebrity song;

In the night, when the cool frost

brings tidings of our joy;

and feet slip under snow;

Holy, holy, holy; night,

Imbued with lots of presents for the kids;

But we're alright,

we're saved and have surrendered,

to this Christ of our new holiday.

The line drawn in the dark room;

a cloud of enmity between us,

you rise, while I sit upon the throne,

and in this moment of your cowering heart;

I place my blade against your neck,

And press;

So much blood, and so few reasons

for me to tolerate the sun.

A romantic seance in the dark;

with candlelight and beads of sweat

rolling off our bodies;

hair tied back and chains

against our flesh; against each other's

breasts we press on inward with the blades;

A fortunate arrest of the breathing;

As we climb in prayer; to the one who

called us to this feast,

Satan's own malnourished form.

There is an incomplete orgasm and

lightness of my body; and the rest

is left to Christ; to reap my soul's

Submission.

In rhythm and in song, and in heat;

she seizes me; and I burst in surrender

to her cave, and she swallows;

Sweet drops of lost prayers;

dashed into the night.

What's lost among the shadow play upon the doorsteps;

a clean communion and an innocent salute;

Whored away;

And in my dreams; and in the shallows of the mind,

I take my company; as much as I deserve; and feel

my way into the mire's edge; and stray into the murk;

False shadows, and a bouquet of thorns;

a throne, all hard edges; made of bone;

and my sanctuary; at the edges of eternity;

Molesting scraps of iron; with the tongue.

Untying the knot you left us bound within;

and straddling your body the way I learned

while watching you unravel all my thoughts;

Diseased canister of divine introspection;

I catch a glimpse of you, and your desires,

how you would have me here, at your beck

and call;

To do to you the things;

Of your longing; while I long,

for passion's completion burnt

into the ground.

Against the sea;

against the grain;

suffering the drought of heaven's beauty,

and for all that was given; she had gotten

just an ounce of passion's fiery display;

Without payment; without so much a sin,

without recovery into the doorstep's in;

and without form to take her place upon the earth,

she lies dormant, in the sea;

Rise up, little girl;

and capture heaven's fury;

Drown yourself in sin; in the sea.

To time, it is forgiven; to wash away the sins

of the earth; and to the light we're drawn like

flies; justice has given birth;

And Lady Liberty; the beast of the apocalypse, reborn;

coerces me; takes shelter in my ill-begotten dreams,

she is the left hand's bite;

My once-time muse;

Forgotten; corruption in a bottle,

she swarms upon me in my sleep; and dreams,

hunting;

So, to the flame; until the ash is spent,

we'll make a feast for heaven's host;

a soiling sort of tempered bread;

My little damsel; in duress.

Standing by the sea, with open sky;

lift me to the moon; where I,

will walk with angels; dancing

through the field of fire;

Lift me to the moon;

and let me see the world,

from up above.

Destitute.

Arisen from a shell of contemplation;

an isolated chamber beneath the shadow of the mind;

arisen and forgotten, as dust to flame

Devoured;

And the song of your inquiry wavers,

as perched on lips of disfavorable liquidity;

Parched;

An informant arises; to divulge the secrets of

the heavens; and the earth, and hell;

A small canary sings.

You bed me;

and on your iron cross you feed me poison;

from your wounds and give me roses;

thorns made of brass; and petals rusted,

I'm wading; waiting out the hours of attendance,

ushering in a new belief system; based wholly

on the confidences of our sacred angels;

What they trampled on were our desires,

burnt up in flames;

The holy know, what could confess a sin,

and what devout factor one must be in;

to trample on the headstones of a grave,

and offer sacrilege;

For the forgiveness of a sin.

Dust, and ash; and all that is plain;

becomes a ceremonial rite's physical flame.

Our Father who art in flames;

cease me now unto the resurrection;

and claim my soul, and hers,

For the fire which burns forever;

Unto Your holy temple in the ashes,

and with your angels; praying over

all the sinners of the earth,

to keep them company when the dust falls;

And the world burns;

Take us up in smoke and flame;

deliver us Lord; from our sins,

Purge us from the world.

When the rain comes;

and our thoughts adrift in flames,

I see her likeness blowing through the breeze;

and offer up a candlemass to the god of my intention;

for to blaze my prayer of passion

into destructive winds;

Let her come;

Let the longing fire of my passion burn freely,

and I will contemplate surrender to your song

tomorrow;

Let the cold winds blow;

and let me feel her voice

against my neck,

And her kiss upon my body;

Let her devour me in the night;

leaving ashes of the flame I've burned for you;

Wholly her body, and mine;

burning in the night.

Sacred summer, how shall I compose a song for you;

what's longing deep within the breast,

and suitable for saviors of a seed; transplanted

in the mire where it bears fruit;

Her naked form;

Purely isolated from the world,

and she grows breasts and develops;

Becomes a woman;

No longer isolated; she is surrounded,

trees and plants; thorns.

The measure of my master, undone by fury and repentance;

a dulled heart, and dreams as far as the mind can see,

he whispers secret meanings into parchment;

and complicates the secret symbolism of a sexual embrace;

He feeds on loneliness and despair;

And my desires run thin; like repeated bruising on the skin,

I walk away, and take what is mine;

Repeating the never ending cycle of lustful marriage.

The atmosphere of filth; devouring me in my sleep,

and in my dreams I hold the secret to set me free;

a lamp, standing in the midst of my seduction,

Beaming;

Let loose the cradle, for the dragons to fly;

and steal the sceptre from the sky; tonight

we wane like the moon in its decline,

For feeding the sharks of the divine.

Hold me back from my decay;

I will surrender to your call,

my lover, and my god;

Drown me in your righteousness.

The blades between my feet;

for my long, cold journey home;

a respite of the season;

Could you match her volume; of voice,

and would it matter in the end,

Steeps in dreams; it mothers murk

in watery things, it is the hand of god

layed upon the sick and twisted mind;

So mother,

may I buy another burst to keep you company,

one more night;

before the journey home, and I

can't take you with me;

Where I'm going.

It is sour in the belly;

your taste,

once so sweet upon the tongue;

when you would sing me

to sleep;

And ashes fall down around our love;

as we retire to our lot in life,

without the mingling flavor of each other's grip;

surrounding us,

Cool water, wash over me;

and sing me off to sleep again; but for the

bleeding ulcers; which walk upon the plane of mind;

and trip me up in rhythm and in stride;

to drown in the waters meant to be;

my respite.

In all fairness, when the winds are stripped away;

and all our minds are marked with our decay;

the blister's issue signs the mark; we've forgotten

all our dues; and come away,

Open handed; open hearted; betrayed.

Love lacks luster, and for an hour or two,

we pretend it isn't possible to breathe;

and we stop.

Life continues on; transcends this silly game;

pretenders, pretending to know their fates,

a small holiday from reality's cold conscience.

A wistful and unremarkable bite,

into the temperance of night.

When one small drop could fill my reason, and my longing;

and you could spend all hours of the day in preparation,

for our desired plea; in separation's standing;

and lick the envelope of our containment;

When the crow calls, and I'm found listening;

it isn't enough to breathe;

I've got to sweep beneath the cupboards,

and sink my teeth beneath your sleeve,

And draw blood;

As a symbol of our covenant's completion;

what world is this where flies abound,

and meddle in the darkened mire; where

prisoners and slaves are wanting freedom,

to no end; and little girls in robes

set in their motion for the flames,

rob the decency of kings' claims;

it isn't the end that is near;

There is no end.

In the shade, in our responsive sins;

we will remain untainted by the traps of love;

desire's forthcoming retribution paints the world red;

and into her eyes; into her restless eyes;

I peer the long way down;

Smoke and fury; a desolate reminder of my fate,

if one could catch me playing in the dark;

if one could slay the angels watching over me;

Response; and surrender to the desire of my heart,

it has a cold bite; and a dim light, drowning its flame;

What needle's eye

could wrap itself around you; lover,

and twist the threads of love between its lips,

To cold tonight; and in this night time fog;

remember the press of your legs; ensnaring me.

When the ice caps melt; will we be walking,

or standing on the shore of isolation's retreat;

contemplating god and his aesthetic,

and man's maltreatment of the earth;

And would you place your hand next to mine,

in an assembly of our bodies,

what's next is just a threading through of time's

sweet substance; and a desolatory direction

for our lives; what's more important

Is the soul going to burn for our disruptive desire;

And will the walls crumble in the end?

Season it with salt here, from the sea;

and pour it in our wounds; it is the bite

of flame, poured out upon the wicked.

The ice at the end of the forest,

where blades bleed into the water's edge;

and the sea, spins slowly downward;

into the sink of souls;

Time wasted is gathered up and burned;

and the light of god's deliverance

walks with us, speaking slow, melodic tones;

Dress me in your favorite lace,

and crocodile skins; it will be a wedding

to remember you by;

The long descension into hell;

where by we lose our dignity,

and are disgraced;

Or we may climb to other realms;

if the timing's right; and we can say our prayers;

Keep me company, whichever way

the table turns; ride my body;

slow, into the nightfall.

My mixed tones and your quiet hands,

the driven stakes we gave each other's hearts;

a small symphonic blend of dance and song;

We raise ourselves to the power of ten,

and beat the inconsistencies of sunlight;

well past high noon, and into dusk,

we bleed into each other's mouths;

and drink to the sun's surrendering soul,

While corpses play the role of our dismissal,

and sirens sing; and all falls into the sea;

our own lives fall upon the rock, and into tears;

And so the sea drinks;

Our blood mixed with the ashes of our burning,

is this a temporary stain; or our completion;

what good is life, left to the divulging of the soul;

if none can hear the purging hour; this dismal drink;

Write what's now;

In this book will lie the prophecies of saints;

and angels' hymns; or the fantasies of sinners;

or nothing but words to form assembly for the work;

What truth lies in words,

in a subjective form;

so take and eat;

my meaningless miracles of thought.

We walk into the village of the dearly departed;

a sentimental seance for the disemboweled,

corpses shine like the sun in the noon time,

here; nobody can claimed to be saved;

When the war ends;

And Jesus Christ comes, to walk among us;

without a bother or a care for our corruption,

saying; "Come and eat."

These are my vowels given up for you;

And blood-stained trigger finger whispers,

"goodbye, my love." Onto a dissonant surface;

gurgling of my blood; and I contain my sin;

On the surface of a semen-stained sheet.

### Mary

She claimed herself the blood and body of the virgin Christ-bearer; spilled out on this earth, for a time, to teach repentance to the inhabitants of the world. She couldn't answer the phone when I called; so I dropped the receiver back onto the hook. I knew she was there. When the time comes for her next check-up I'll just have to ring the doorbell, I thought; it wasn't as if she had anything other to do, she spent all day playing World of Warcraft and smoking cigarettes. I had to get to her. Meanwhile outside, it was a beautiful day; with only a hint of rain coming through the sky. The last four days had been torrential, but it wasn't like Vic to take an interest in the out of doors when she considered herself so busy with what she was up to. I really need to get to her. I think I'll take a walk.

The convoluted surface of my skin, which you left

to bleed dry; and the hampering of motion through

the night, where ages pass in an instant, by

telegraph it's gone connected to the fabric of

space, and time;

We walk in different paces;

Through the night, we bleed on one another's wounds;

and this half-wit surgery conscripted in the fire,

knocks down cavities constructed by the world;

A fluidity of anticipation's purview; wrapped

in the throes of ecstasy; worn thin

It's draped on someone else's shoes;

And in the telepathic prose of angels,

I am doomed.

Stuck in the cycles of a dream;

no comprehension; just a spark in the night sky,

and so it seems the mystery has been interrupted

by the chasm of the clock and time itself,

Transpires; into blood,

And pools upon the earth;

where it is tilled, and folded

into gravity.

My first communion, in the company of your visitation;

and you make me wait for the host; my salvation,

the body of Christ; manifest; her son; embedded

in her flesh;

And I move, waiting, wanting none of my disjointed song,

purchased at the price of his required sacrifice;

Blood, and death's corruption;

The mouth burns at his delight; it's Satan's undoing,

and the time is at a disappearance; I lay, cloaked

in madness; with the beating of my heart reduced to

strokes of a timepiece ticking;

Whenever you fall,

when you fail to sing;

and all my world is covered

with the ashes of our one time flame;

I resume beating; my heart continues bleeding,

and the sacrificial feast presented me;

consumes my every need,

"Take this, and eat."

The sacred song, of flesh and blood's betrayal;

where all our sins; forgiven for the price,

of one man's death upon a cross;

And by this death we are redeemed;

Heaven and hell; and death; and life's

expectation of us, the damned and the anointed;

the holy and devout proclaim his glory;

And to the rest; a torment,

eternal.

This is the gift I give you, dear lover;

influence of my soul; my muse,

we must pass this test of fire;

and come out unscathed,

Eradicate by breath and life our deadly desire.

By placing death above; and the earth below,

we've displaced ourselves; where dream and reality

meet; and two collective souls in union correspond

as one, it is the marriage of darkness; incomplete

And without warning, it shifts;

Into abandoned cells; sealed.

Opened again, for a time; and two times; and a third,

written down on scroll; and waxed; while we wait,

the lights dimmed; and our sentences run bleak,

I want to open up my eyes to him;

Show me how!

And save me from this ever lasting hell;

where sheets of sin remain unmade,

and the holy angels mockery retains its sentiment;

where every spoken word; and every work goes

unforgiven; and when God speaks

My world crumbles.

With shoes untied, I step into the dark;

in this black ride I ramble on, and peek into the light,

and fade; I dream of retribution, not of saving grace,

but in my heart, I know there's hope to finger;

Some semblance of an order greater;

For purchase by the blood;

Of an unnamed saint, who lies; petrified in stone

and he's my savior and God has beckoned me

to come to the feast and eat.

Yet the dreams prolong my want;

they issue forth my faith in ecstasy,

and to curb this desirous frenzy;

I must retire her;

to the dormant cell

She is my call to darkness.

With courtesy, you call but I've no place with you;

and this is where we part ourselves; in the sinking

depths of loneliness; where we spend our last

resuscitating breath; hollowed out.

Because sins complete our course;

Because come the resurrection, I'll be standing

dressed in white without you; You are my curse

and my abomination;

Come clean, every part of me is dirtied with our

stain; the seven seals, not yet broken; beckon

us to remain, unparted; damnation's foul mouth

and trickery abides alongside our sublimated

bouts of toxic fury; you ride the wiles inside

me, and dress me up your doll,

Warm wishes to those who camp nearby;

let the angels come; let the nature's song

scream out a symphony of pain; while I turn

to observe, your beauty.

When in this simple accursed skin; we exchange

trivialities in motion, unravelling the night's

corruptible sentiment; you've sworn, and I

to other's beds; and so we lie in our mistaken

identities, three chimes; unbroken madness

Thoughts stain red these sheets;

and dyed in the blood of the lamb,

I go on with malformed motions;

righteous deeds and honest melodies;

While sin, it lingers like a taste;

You are my destiny of fire; and I your ash,

and we will burn one way or the other;

desire, or hell's corruption.

We will burn.

For my disruptive cycle, I seek your touch;

and in the garden of the ashes, take your hand

and when corruption's stayed, I slave at touching;

every little thing you've ever touched;

So in my mind; we're one.

And on this holiday of film, I shall remember

all the tears poured out; through all the years,

and silence comes through dark embraces in the snow;

where you and I come calmly; on the dim-lit path.

And the disciple's call, it beckons me to scream;

in salutation and delight for my soul's destiny,

but you walk the misaligned and malignant sores

of my denial; I covet you,

You haunt me;

And so with my delight; and with the saving grace,

there comes a price I'll pay; my fever burns

for your touch, for your embrace;

And when the prick lingers on the fingertips of my longing,

I scour the pages of the holy books and look for you,

your essence; filling my mind like a sickness,

And then the thoughts turn into blackness,

and demons catch my breath before it's turned,

the dark night's summons of your body pressed against mine,

Even Satan has her way with me.

A miscalculated risk of coin and carry; I will carry

you home after the rain subsides; when I was twelve;

I'd carry all the pieces of my broken down machines,

and build them up again from scratch;

We're not twelve;

And there's no easy way of reorganizing personalities;

they are like flavors on the tongue; some damned,

because they act like what we would expect the damned

to be; others saved; for salvation runs through their

bloodstream;

Most, a mixture.

Let the blood run through our veins;

let us mutate to who we ought to be.

Salvation runs deeper than external scars;

it's in the bloodline.

Transcendental moment, bleeding out in the dark;

your love it rises me to nearly toppling,

and wind drifts patiently beneath our flowing

forms; as you keep me from falling through the night;

I want to be here forever in your arms;

And the lifting field of our isolation,

the intense gaze of the moon above us,

while the rockets blast their notions

of mortality; we are free, and light;

captured by the stormy sea; but not afraid

to let it pull us under.

You twist and fall; twitching in your bed;

and light fades; the moon's bright paradise

concludes; and every notion of our life

in a bottle fades with it;

In bed we wake up; to each other's gaze.

In plots and semistructures of language and motion;

where the herd eats all the masters of the march,

Rise up!

To take the hand of God; and make kings tremble;

rise up, and fashion for yourselves an ending;

What good is God as dead;

the recent disappearances of idols,

and sacrificial feasts left for the dead;

king's crumbs bled and battered;

and dipped in molten gold,

Resurrection come to claim;

resurrection come to claim;

Where does sin now remain;

now that God is dead and gone;

and all the angels after,

Belief in the eternal, as a stain.

To eat and drink the forbidden fruits; to necessitate

change from within, and cause the roof's collapse,

To wander in the darkness, alone;

And let it tear you to pieces; I cry. And the baby

in my womb rejoices at my tears; it is a long bout

and what becomes of me in the end, is just a shell;

bearing the word of God,

And to his light for shining; I surrender all,

even my heart's desires; even love's sweet kiss

upon my lips, even all;

To doubt in the resurrection of our soul, and

pass the longing of my age into regression;

stain my sheets with plenty, and become impure,

To douse her hunger with a thread of intoxication,

and leave her, belly up upon my breast; and feed

her all the lies I've come to know as such;

Myth & magic;

Dress her as a boy and name her Jesus Christ.

The deep intoxication of a lover's breast;

love poured out like wine, to drink in,

she leads me on with this infatuation

sinking in; and cold words burn like fire;

I have the second half of her;

Deeply drinking;

in a toast to gods and men;

I say I shall devour her in whole,

My mind unloosed by the voice of her vision,

made clear; a momentary breach of isolation,

and we would dine on one another's cavities;

if given half a chance;

But chance and god and fate do not abide

by the fantasies of our intrepid purge of love,

Only the blisters' bite contains our purity.

In my misaligned mind, I find the mention of a tomb;

what's mine after the wailing of the world subsides,

and in it, lies the deeds of my desires; my sins

engraved upon its sides; and to my lover, I conclude

the best and saved them all for her;

Cheap wine, and cigarettes;

Stale coffee.

Open up the casket; reap my flesh,

roll me over, and breathe your breath;

Infuse the light in me you knew

for a short momentary glimpse;

Rest me inside you;

And we'll conquer death through seduction of the senses.

Institutionalized and registered for inclusion of her

armistice; soul black skin, perked up renaissance of

surrender, the notion of a capital crime committed,

For your sins.

Three hours complaint, while the holy spirit descends

on every major motion picture; resenting the tranquility

of stars and minds in Hollywood; no other substance

than the bleeding of his wounds, and our repentance;

Forced holiday of religious retirement; delicate situation

of our high end / low end split; redemption's near!

Isosceles paints the curb black; and takes the sins

we'd had forgiven beneath the asphalt; two incisions

and we've got Christ deciding everything for us;

Sin's not apparent to the indoctrinated;

its capital and collective indecision,

Make what's mine; ins.

Regarded as an instrumental force of nature;

singing lullabies to little children,

speaking lies and detrimental half-truths,

offering blood sacrifices to the masses;

Little lies, bound up in regressive stain;

When the world remains your oyster, and the demons

claim the throne of God in glory of their religious

beliefs in the goat-god; and sacrifice remains

a stain upon the human face;

Serial killers take the place of prophets;

Down into the pit of reactionary thinking,

"Describe your faith; after me:"

Conqueror of the night, oh holy virgin,

and what the dead ones say as they walk on by;

the filth that comes out of their mouths;

I can't believe they are allowed; and sin

requires sacrifice, so hers is to grin,

And bare her teeth with an evil look;

They might see the sun another day, or two;

but she is counting her revenge by hours;

Let the rain come, to soak up all her tears;

wash them away in a flood of pain and scars;

Wield the sword of the Almighty; turn

that frown upside down, cause anger in

rejection to turn into fire;

Rage, mother Mary;

Rage against the world and its abandonment.

Sacred summer night, beneath the stars;

no sun; no testimony to the word of God,

a slow surrender to the rites of mankind;

a purge of faith; enraptured state of mind;

A frost-bitten field of ice;

Into the world, He shines, and brings the gospel;

and to a slow surrender of the time and glory

of words as yet unheard; the dew collects in pools,

and the holy mother makes her way between the crowds'

subconscious mind;

Soul collective; distracted by her beauty,

and words unspoken come alive; through her breath;

and on her breasts she glistens beads of milk;

warm, wet words; spoken in the darkness of the world,

And at her hip; the voice of unresponsive insanity;

run dry; a disjointed beast, devouring everything

it touches;

With FIRE.

And ashes; smoking cinders become a world;

ready and responsive to his voice,

This is the word of the Lord.

Resistance to the words spoken through the mind

of a delusional; detrimental signs passed through

the longings of an untamed heart; broken speech,

irresponsive melodies of what could be called music;

As such, I derive my tender cares;

From this melodic mindset; purged thoughts and broken

bits of dream, mixed into the makings of a melodrama;

and at curtain call; I'm there, playing every part of my

convictions; it's a closed audience; open to revision;

Nothing pertains to reality.

Her dress is perfect, in every way; and her make-up

just right for the part she'll never play; her hands

are tied behind her back and she is wailing;

The moment passes into memory;

Shocked at the feature film about to be unleashed;

without a sound except God's fury in the clouds;

all the cameras rolling;

Save one.

What lies dead in ash and sin corrupts with decay;

our two bodies, entwined as lovers do, with

hours of making each other our slaves for the fire;

and in recalled collections of our words,

We persist in our direction for the grave;

Opened up to me, you call; with complete control

over the assemblage of your lines, and I die

for your words, their ever-loving spark's fulfillment;

and joy, at your last calling to make this love

redeemed; irresolute retirement of the strings,

The holy angels play our serenade;

And whisper in the darkness our love's alibi;

a consternation of causes, played out upon the sea

while we abide in your chamber for the night.

Dreadful hour; I implore you; requiring your ecstasy's

enjoyment, for to play the final note upon the sea;

"Drown me in utter darkness."

The chord complete; you say your prayers, and I--

wishing there were more to life than madness and despair.

Frozen in time's embrace; keeping calm, not to

remark on what was spoken in the dark; clean

obstacles drenched in black; retired mercury,

risen from the ashes of the dead's embrace;

Like all good things,

Redacted silhouettes of fire, broken skin,

a purging of necessity; once filmed in black & white;

red, aging tomes of delicate romance; burned

You settle, and you scathe.

Its once fine injuries, broken and corrupted;

with a twist of injustice; holy words spoken,

in the darkness of our sacred circle; vowels sound,

a strictly isotonic mass;

No one remembers a word;

and fates are sealed by less,

To listen, and reveal the tones;

Our selves and our salvation;

An aesthetic curse.

Into the withdrawal of your soul; that imperfect form

which isolates my madness from my sanity; and spews

out fire and disbelief, I dream of you where angels

spend their sleeping hours, and demons lay in wait;

your hide the perfect shade of ecstasy; and in my mind's

longing you require me as your blood sacrifice;

Opened wounds, and light conjectures of pain;

I listen to your whimsical teaching; and that of

the demons howling in my ears, and to retreat

seems wisdom, and to enslave myself to your entreaty

is but the urge of my aroused senses; wandering your

misty shore; and I lay myself open at your beach,

and call upon your waves to consume me;

It isn't long before my call is answered;

in the crisp, clean waters of your flesh,

Desire has overcome me.

Terrorized by the south wind, and where demons play,

the ushered algorithmic news plays reels; and into

sleep's surrender, where the wildest of them dance;

I've stayed alive just how I can, to sentence myself

to dust;

Cold ashes come alive and burning pyres, a sacrifice;

to death of God's completion;

All is old news, playing on the T.V. sets;

throw up a flame, run with them as darkness speaks

your name; and the community of everlasting gods

lays down the law; you're fit for their heaven;

so long as you wear mercy on your sleeves,

In a drawn bath, I spill my secrets and my seed;

to you, and to your heavenly host; erect with

resistant hand; all pearlescent in the bath;

Tub a rub rub,

The distance closes, and I have sacrificed my king;

the hour draws near when I'll surrender everything,

but here when darkness so divine has enveloped me;

I pray to even's stars and God to disrupt time's

fabric, cloak me in a case of iron; and call me

collected in the dissonant moon's gazing eye.

An abstract resolution, and in keeping with the time;

it's ill-remembered and stuck in frozen motion;

the clock revolves, and my distance closes to the sky;

where angels greet the ticking solid substance;

Light meets counter;

Draw me into you, sweet angel; bearer of the truth,

and save me from the simple-minded madnesses of sin;

concrete blocks and parasitic swimming minds; drenched

in the sour and sublime rhetoric of youth's apparel;

Draw me a line through the sky;

Rest in fantasy's emotional facade,

and stick your tongue through the diseased

erotic filth of simple-minded madness;

Dress it in purple;

call it a king,

"Your majesty."

And drink the blood unto resurrection.

A mistake, in allowing me to finish yet another;

for in this volume there will come a time I've

been tested by the flames and found unworthy of

your love; two things interact, with a poison;

It is the drifting of the clock;

And I will stay my hand for a time; upon your flesh,

where desire runs deep; through and through; but for

a taste of blood and iron ore; I will drink, and you

will weep your tears upon the pages.

Lover, in the dark recess of isolation; keep me calm,

and wind upon the sea; blow over me; row me deeper

into debt, into the sea's howling voice.

Come over me;

And calm me; or make my heartbeat rise in anticipation;

love me with a sinful kind of love, sour and spoil me;

raise my voice in ecstasy;

And while I drip love into the sea;

you'll wish you hadn't caught me by the tail;

For the season is young and the fish bite.

The dawn of a new age; of unrestricted comparison;

and the bleeding edge of the sword of desire,

she comes to me, and you allow this separation of

church and state; a deep divide of lovers and love's

requited urging,

Bow down before the new God;

Her innocent apparel; youth's endeavored form,

and serene skin; blistered by a sentence of death;

for her one true calling is to bleed you dry,

and set in the harsh consumption of your flesh;

What world is this;

Denied for so long a time of harmony's pursuit,

and captured in the essence of a moment,

the stick of time's passing; plunged in motion

to the stars, and the sky; and its passing,

Grief devours our hearts;

purity of mind's become and unstable respite,

the banter of demons, howling through the night;

as we purge ourselves; of this abominable stain,

Sin's repentant skin has ruptured.

The wildness of being between lovers; on the edge,

where clean mistakes turn heavy; and the load is

inescapable; you might bind me, in the end;

and take my blood, bent scrapings of my work;

Earth spins and the trees and birds;

Nature sings her adoration to God,

and the Almighty rests a hand upon this stain,

this ever looming darkness in our skin;

The world collides with it,

to leave a mark upon our wrists;

The love of demons;

raising their voices

against a chill night's air;

their song

Bent on destruction.

The feelings I have felt;

Are real;

And in the distance, I see the clouds gather,

for our lives, and for our lies; you will remember her,

and I will do my best to make a triviality of her existence;

You beat me with the stick; while I surrender,

and on the shore of her arrival, I call into the mist;

this foul water of our dissonant past,

Where evil lurks;

You drown my mentions of her in the scriptures;

and carry out her cross to its position in the mud;

we watch, as both of us are put to judgement,

Our lies are our deceit;

Full gaze on the distance that was troubling us;

and on yours and mine; the distance traveled

Through the mire.

As I sink my teeth into the sun; and become

the monster I was born to be, I dream of youthful

memories, unfolded in the night; and weep;

For all my mind spent, swimming circles through the pit;

and hers, she swims with me, even in my dream;

The sour sport of solitary confinement,

while we make love to the unquestioned authority;

and dripping wet with fluids, we retire

Into the bed of incest;

She came into my arms; had surrendered everything

to be mine, and so I showed her what love meant;

harmful, toxic; bleeding love.

Everything comes to a close,

and so do I;

My closing is the purchase point,

And my sins shall be spent;

Every wish I've granted through my own blood,

shall be required;

Heaven's sent a messenger to me;

in dreams;

Here is my madness and my disarray of thought;

Should I repent what sins I've been committing,

and call the constitution complete;

Or direct myself toward the flames,

and pile high my drift of sins;

follow each desire into the grave,

for thought; it might not matter in the end;

I'll hold a candle up in sacrifice,

a clear line to separate the pain and suffering;

I have collected within the hour of my breath;

May God forgive me;

and teach me patience,

not to betray His path.

These untitled verse, restored from the scrapyard;

in vintage bloom, to dress the dolls of ages past;

constrict their necks and avalanche their thoughts

into the cesspool of creative identity;

Once God has decided a thing;

And my own mind is dead in the water and drowning;

for if it be the Lord in his well-washed ways as guiding

me through dissonant dreams and slow surrenders,

I wouldn't have the soul to bury myself before His flames;

But I should want for this disease to end;

quickly, and painfully; at the union of my soul

to the pyre; pray to heaven's throne; I'll pray

the long way deep; in gutteral groaning,

Let me pass through quickly,

and save me the misery of a prolonged rehearsal

for damnation's slavery; save me and make me purer.

Holy day;

The day of our surrender; the day of repentance,

but my repentance is run thin and dry,

what cause have I left, to God; what purpose;

lies running through my veins, to sing;

Holy, holy, holy;

Lord God Almighty, whatever His name or His form,

and in my hallucinatory walks; He speaks to me,

my misaligned madness biting at the edges of the mind;

For two more days, I'll have my peace;

and then be gathered in for judgement,

and when the calling birds linger,

what good am I but trash; gathered for a burning flame;

Instead I'll waste my days with desire, perhaps;

or simple states of mind; who can call these wasted;

when in time all things must pass into the flames,

But I'll want to subsist myself in decorations

for this holiday's consumption; Holy day.

We level the ground where all our sins abound;

and try to place a stone upon their source,

what sink lies over the ocean; to seep away

our madness; and cradle our contented hearts;

The deeds done, in the way to our prolonged

resuscitation, showing signs of rhythmic life;

and breath; denounced gods and sacrifices;

untimely disappearances in dream,

Rote and magic, and disappearing acts;

Life in a chair.

Days spent in isolation and cold; regretting

the lack of pain, of suffering's betrayal of the flesh;

and when I open up my wings to fly; I flounder,

This is the hardest part;

Belief in the unknown, and in the self's secluded parts;

where company provides little to no relief, the days

pass by; and weeks bring me to my knees; as I try to fly;

The principle of flight is in belief,

Reason plays no part; or rather a jealous knife,

tucked away to plunge into the breast; what madness

says is pure; and so I shelter her and make her all

my own; consume her flesh as sacrifice;

Then drink the poison of her blood.

Attached before the fall,

in your white gown, you come;

damsel in distress, damsel in the rupture of a mind;

and I can feel the ocean flow beneath you,

You are mad!

Isosceles triumphant claims the truth of us;

and in this small corner of a shadow, we unfurl,

death to the trumpeter; death to hell's gazing eye;

and to the drought we sing our endless song of servitude;

What would last beneath the waves, comes up in droves;

feeding on the surface matter, reading into dreams' interpretation,

exploring sins past, and preparing for the present's

long digression;

Meaning of a mad mind?

It unravels.

Take a piece, and bite.

Without the ocean's clarity, without the skin as our

protection in this void; what peels apart the madness

and the choice; I would subdue you in the darkness;

and I would claim my bed, beneath the sheets we'd

writhe and take part in each other's sick diluted

wash;

Parity forbids us of our longings;

Passion subsides upon the water's edge;

and there in a moment of our ill-begotten fate;

I find a future hemmed, stiched together;

The remnants of a plane deserted and in flames,

collision with our course of desire and its shames,

the moment you made me furious with fire;

I could have consumed you in my rage;

But it's a long way down; let's fly on the wings

of your witchcraft; and stay in the service of our God.

Message in a bottle, opened up with prayer,

to feed my curiosity; and contort my reason;

sent up on the sky bed, down through my reflective grin;

I coat the room with black paint; and start singing,

Wheels of fate, spinning;

A drifter on the river keeps calling,

and her voice pleads well within my mind;

her shackles thick and hair dyed pitch

Black.

Even with the screams, and even as the singing

birds proclaim our sins to everyone; she rides

upon the waves; upon the water's edge;

Rises up above herself in prayer and repentance,

comes lively on the wind with her voice,

So sing, sweet child; sing your heart's surrender song.

The word of god, opened up and transcribed

upon my pocket; left in the washer on rinse,

a careful calculation of soap and water;

Wash away the sins of my jeans;

In transparent episodes of schizophrenic outburst;

upon the sleeves of my jacket, setting fire and

a rhythm to the heartbeat I haven't synchronized

just quite yet, the dew drops pierce the sky

in their reflective force; and my mind trembles;

For future fame and photographic style, you

wear yourself thin; and I wear your jacket like

I wear a newly bought tie; upon my bare skin,

breasts pouring out into the night.

You wonder where the angels have been hiding,

they've been here all along, and watching episodes

while you learn to catch your breath and fly;

Open up your wings, love;

Soar.

Your statutory song; the one with risen voice;

you sing on the edge of the sea, and it carries you;

one small step, into corruption's blaze,

where the fish feed, and are fed into the fire;

Disrupted scorn, engulfed in toxic slavery;

resonating the gifts of our confessions,

Slow water, urban transport shelter;

in the middle of the bus stop I can't see

beyond; it slips us slowly under; and I can't

find breath; new life, give me; new

We shelter each other; in the midst of this

collision with the sun, a flake of fortune

pressed into gold, and slow corruption takes

hold; bleed us, God; creator of all things,

Spend us; that our forfeiture be saved.

The canary's song; whispered in a dark room,

she sings with tones that only I can hear;

she is my maddened mind, and my salvation,

a curse upon my lips within the hour of desire;

She's neither bad nor good,

But her song amazes me, and when the band plays;

and she opens up her windpipe; it is aesthetic

bliss, hovering at the door to my enclosure;

How sweet the sound of God's required sacrifice;

And dissonance plays; and cold eruptive bursts,

the crowd calls out in silence; and the bass

blasts; hearing ceases. Only the ringing of the

ears in their deafened destruction;

The world has ended;

and this is the last requirement of my sins.

Irrelevant whispers, pleading dark descent;

and catching fireflies upon the wind,

hoping to unravel all the mysteries of God's

quotation in the holy scriptures; pleading

dark descent at peril of an open flame;

All the mysteries of God revealed;

in a single tome; an anthology,

And so it might seem, to keep the peace

we'd just study The Holy Bible; and pretend

our fathers had it all foretold; our plot

upon this land, upon this world;

Our sins and stain of reason

wouldn't hold a candle to this flame;

For fear of madness; and an irresponsive sweat;

what goes on, forbidden; and mistaken stains

bleeding out the seams of our revisions.

The pot steams; and boiling's just a metaphor

for the devouring of souls; a black hole in the sun;

its writhing flames leaping from here into the void;

destiny lies on a path of resurrecting dreams,

And fate, an unrealized quantity; I'm unforgotten

in this time in space's divide; thrown onto

reality's sword,

Some rhymes happen for a reason;

The flames divide the respite from the wiles of sin,

and take into account another's responsive tale of fury;

dust drops upon the skin; and feathers hatred;

While I'm left without a purpose,

deaf to the tones of oblivion.

Rhythm sets in my divide; and conquer algorithm,

the slow, pretentious path to righteousness' claim.

The other world; the deaf drum of the cockroaches;

placing feet inside the hollowed shell of my flesh;

once more, a dimmed delusion that I am God's messenger,

playing out in thrumming beats upon my inner lobe;

Consent; or face the consequences,

And rape's brash heat unfolds her legs and has its way,

the stars salute, and everything in place it fucks the life out;

swallows whole the ever-lasting soul of her delusions,

The marsh; into the marsh; we march, in droves;

watching all the wildlife submit to the will of God The Father,

cradling cores of execution blocks; we shall submit or die;

and then to hell, abiding our true sentence in the fire;

Heaven's aim, concludes with the serene song;

the canary bird; singing the voice of reason

throughout the madness of the center stage.

Her voice raises the hair on my neck;

it's not a pleasant sensation, but one of desirous

overtones; she breathes down my back; each prickling

pulse evades the reasoning of mind and I turn her over

and under me; it is the long draw of breath I see

Before the dark overlay of consumptive sin;

We writhe; in the shadows, and stay; when it is

finished in the embrace of one another's thoughts;

curing all pain and disruption; but leaving a stain,

upon the sheets; upon the minds of our misdeed;

And I would repent,

but it's a long climb to heaven;

and I would choose to stray

if given substance such as this;

to sink my teeth into;

Dress the foul notion of sublimation

into a packet of sugar; sealed off

for the tearing off of it;

Undressed, unclean; irremovable;

stain.

An unresolved correspondence; a dead line, echoed

in the dark, a poison pill and a fool;

her shadows enclose my space, her essence drowns me,

an isosceles encasement of my body;

We turn in silent strides;

Art consumes the shallow of my energy;

and small, withdrawn repetitions free the fires;

hell can wait, I've consumables to feast upon,

And dead men, drowned in flame reorganize the past;

irresolute and stained by belief, they draw lines

in the prism of contrived reality; they purchase

the blood of angels for the sword of truth;

Only to burn in the bath of fire.

In the strides of our ascension, our pathways divulge,

and so contained are the failings of our desires;

half-written pages and torn up shreds; the evidence

of our diluted faith. What happens in the interim;

when pieces of hell collide with our holier parts,

And we drift, as wood in the water;

So spare me your rhetoric of heaven's plan;

and holy and devout passages into it;

All the structures of the earth shall be laid bare.

It isn't for us to decide who will pass through

the gates of heaven; it is a morse code;

translated by the right hand of our holy God.

Throughout my hold; my head it trembles;

and the living god walks where I have my feet positioned;

each moment of my waking, my head adrift; and I can't

stop the bleeding of my broken eardrums; beating,

This is the word of the Lord;

And then comes a corrupted call from above my head;

a soured poison sticking on my tongue; A riot of madness,

which I must purge; or discover the truth behind,

Each page of the holy text;

sacred and profane,

lies in its interpretation.

In truth; and in sentiment, I hold my hand up

to the flames; and in my sickly rocker,

I die; within the flame where I abide, I see

the holy shrine and all the angels; lacking

nothing in their array

God save me;

For yet another rainy day, despite my sins;

and my integrity; despite the bitter urgings

in my loins; that I should love you above

all things; and praise you in my way;

Tattered remains of myself; dismal dreams,

cacaphonic flames consume my destiny,

And I am shamed; put to the test

and found to be without a purpose.

Denied my will and want for purity.

The argument that sticks; put a baby in a frame,

leave it on the bedside, and when the rain comes

pouring down; remember me,

I sewed a button on my favorite pair of jeans,

to feel what it was like to hold something sharp

again; it's been a long, long time; coming through

the metal felt like power's leaking hand;

And now I'm lost in the woods lately, nowhere to run

or hide from the wolves and goblins; all sense

nonsense; all dreams and fairy tales;

Winter doesn't need a reason.

Irresolution; the words evade my listening;

and in this mire where you complain of seeing too much,

I down a toxic substance, a dose of fairy dust,

and claim the madness is just another melody of

purchased places on the wind,

Rest in fields of flowers;

Place my head in potted and pretentious drifts of book;

and steal the formulaic rhythms of the story's pitch,

God's great lack of theatrics;

Where instances of mirth are drowned by blood;

no, it is there; a blood bath.

Irresolute madness born of shame and failure's arm.

Renamed the mother; renamed the queen,

and when the curtain fails; I've been betrayed;

with one swift moment of purchased blood;

my heart's been trampled on;

And so in solitary confinement,

I'll douse the candles with water from my veins;

Hold up our conclusion to the play,

move west to where the diseased heart

can cradle ashes of the darkened plot;

Foresee ;

I foresee a scale of sentiment to purge me of my name;

broken fists and sentences, and muddied lips;

The insane hold their seance at the last supper;

and for my blood and my landing; I propose;

to keep them quiet there, for the summer.

The false gods of our resounding past, all forgotten

in worship; but the one true God remains unbroken

in our beliefs; in some of ours,

What witness bears a miracle in our modern age;

Besides the miracle of life itself; what proof

of His existence; why do we hold so strongly

to this remnant of our humanity;

The cloth, torn by many;

Remains unbroken.

Circles of immunity, come and go;

spin cycles through the snow and go unnoticed;

it is the final flavor of the tongue before the pain,

my life's remains; content with this surreptitious blank;

Porous jealousy, fluid contemplation of the pain;

an outright game of sword, and dagger; sharpened

through the intimacy of our youth,

Come control; come violence,

come swiftly to me.

Reason wanders the mind without a fashion or a foothold;

comes to grips with you and your fetishistic wishes;

it's downtime; it's a cipher to the secret age of magicks;

It is completion of a goal;

Violent purge.

Resting in your bed; alongside your phantom form,

kicking the headboard and waiting for this seizure

to pass; And when the face of your arrival shows

her skin, I reach within to find my pleasure center;

The arousal of a fact of nature;

Pressed on skin; on skin and into the psyche,

your shade and shadows fade; the dream's reality;

a corpuscle of sin; draped in heaven's jewels,

For the right moment of awareness and refusal;

I shed you;

I share your bed with you, without the thought

of suicide; no long drawn out catastrophic

columns of God's malformed bigotry; or madness;

Merely flesh; on flesh; in flesh.

Refusal of a sort, split lip and beaded tears;

dropping to the floor, my wish and my escape

comes in the form of your body; lifted up to the Lord,

And when my ancient spells succumb to the reality

of what they were; my madness and misgivings, spelled

on the parchment, with our blood; no magic and no mistake,

it's been a long drought for sanity's escape;

What was yours is mine, now and forever;

Lift up your body;

the praise of resolution lacks in luster;

all gold follows with the path of no return,

shovel it out; without the reaping words;

Hell has taken me down,

taken me to unnamed worlds;

and shown me ice; and flame,

To the serpent's still-life,

etched in clay; we pray;

And to the holy virgin mother,

with skin as white as snow;

And to the footstool,

I lift you up to the Lord.

The slither, and the sort;

a crumpled pepper kept beneath the stairs;

and my spell; unnoticed by the gods,

Perfume and poetry;

Rites of passage and despair,

they save my soul from going under;

into the black pools of my madness;

And I keep crystals, reflecting light and God;

beneath my bed at night; and in the daytime hours,

arrayed on pedestals I pray to;

Home is another word for church;

My risen Christ contained within my refridgerator;

"Take this and eat; this is my body."

The daytime whispers nothings and the night calls;

with her devouring voice, set out in misery's chord,

Synthetic substance and a mute tone; deafened ears;

the way we walk and whisper one another's sinful miseries;

Claiming the right hand to the throne as our own;

devoiding life's impressionistic smile,

A pinpoint of light; and my progressive symphony of sound;

surrender to the one true gluttonous remainder of a god,

and his taxes paid in baskets; through the aisles,

Worshippers fall down upon themselves in greeting

their own deaths; for who is he to favor the rich;

middle-upper white class, if there is a God.

Synthetic remainder of a voice unscathed by sin;

plastic baby Jesus dolls;

And a resonating voice of thunder.

In a stark representational build; of your body,

etched in glass, upon my tabletop, where you reflect

and refract the light of my salvation;

Curvature perfect;

And in the isolation of my world; in my madness,

I count you holy in this new light; my servitor,

my damsel in distress of shock and fracture;

I will hold you gently,

beneath my breasts;

and suckle you.

Youthful gazing, where mind's belief is open;

and contemplation comes in the form of stylized

circus actors, one step; two, and the fury of

the mind's unrated stars; stepping out of orbit,

out of gaze's reach; to where the wild beasts

of the night roam through our nightmares;

Engrossed in disbelief, I cause a comet's discourse,

who sheds her ice between the fingers of Jupiter

and Saturn; My dolls dance;

With the grace of caterpillars ; on fire, on fire,

On fire.

Hopeless romantic; in a helpless world, riding on the stakes

of salvation's turning; hoping for a reason death will

strike; and an afterlife, fit for gods;

The seasons are changing;

nobody can explain why.

The wheels of fate; disjointed song of irresolution;

a tiring game of what may come tomorrow, in the tide,

and we drift upon a bed of ashes; in the cold winter's

sphere; you and I; separated by miles through the snow;

I carry your image in my pocket,

Of pure gold; sculpted with a mind's contorted sin;

we wash in the bath of lover's contentment,

and sing;

"Holy, holy, holy,"

To the rhythm of the drip in the tub;

What's washed may it never again be made unclean;

let this be a bath for eternity; and you bring

the ring of death to be placed upon my finger;

Divorced lives, and infanticide;

Come unto me, love.

The dawn collects our sinister compartments;

locks them up, and you now hold the keys;

to hell and earth's dire fantasy;

The door to the dragon's lair;

Let us play, with power.

And I can tell your heart is strung up;

with beads of sweat dripping down your face;

you hear me,

But can you call out;

remain calm, my love.

Mystery and magic; and the dealings of the saints,

power; plays a role in every breath that's ever

scarred your lungs; and I hold out my own life

as a service to my God; in my maddened state; to you.

Drink from the cup of my blood;

it is a new and everlasting covenant,

Of sin.

Space abounds, and I share mine with you;

your words linger on the tip of my tongue;

and I would have your body, if it were

Yielding all my soul; I swim out to the shore,

and speak my foreign tongue across your sands;

the murderous rage of my madness claims the even parts;

and I swim beneath the surface to forget you;

Calmly wondering why,

in space provided;

I can't recall your face; or name.

As sequences separate into decaying bits of information;

and three-parts irony replaces the spread;

and the fashion of your lips is the only thing;

I can recall.

Perfect lips;

Speaking perfect lies to me.

Superstructure; and the implied quantity of your cavity;

denied instructions; planning out the curvature of the plane,

Your eyes feed my frenzy.

What matters the more is an insistence of your hypothetical,

the dried out and intoxicating fires of our brief discussion,

worn out breath; and butterflies; laced with LSD,

A perfect system for discrepancy,

watered lillies; frozen ponds;

remainder of an octagon laid down on the surface of the pond,

poetry & reason; madness' mistake;

Level your directives, and place the pole

into the water; measure out the depth of our

mistake;

Plunged resuscitory motion;

measure out the breaths' kiss

I've felt for you since first exchange.

In the essence of your voice, where all distance fades;

between the lines of clarity and judgement; where chaos

tends toward the lunacy of misdirected mind, I can

complete the cycle of my ecstasy; and hold a candle up

to God, as sacrifice; can call the angels near to me;

and say; here is how far we have come;

Birthed by flame;

Our innocence fades, without restriction on the complacency

of our denied repentance, I'm drawn to you like a moth;

To a flame;

Unattended in this stripped seance; brief enclosure

of my naked self; blood and excrement, and wine;

Poison saturates the mind.

Where the water dries, where the trees form;

your inception in my mad mind; come craving

undirected dreams; false hopes of fictitious

gods splayed earnestly upon the pages of

dusty old volumes;

Your wife and my abandoned hope;

some seizures and derangements,

isolated balls of fire;

Permission's plot will grant you the cold throws

of ecstasy, within my mouth; within my mind; where

we keep secrets; and you and I, we wash ourselves

in the pool yard;

blood, stained by the reasoning of gods;

washes away the sins of the world,

and so we drink each other;

Blessed be God, forever.

It's in your kiss;

the poison of my longing and my passion;

it is everything I miss,

in my perception of loss;

And unto you I come;

claiming madness as the key to unlocking the door;

to our becoming.

Strange things felt between lips,

and I can't pass through the forbidden;

into the unknown,

It's just left up to synthetic song,

and even here; the chords play out of tune;

we are adrift and lost beneath a blood red moon.

Your sublime altercation; burned in fire at the mark,

another sieve constructed, another reality foretold;

and in the mind's edge, I conclude destruction of a myth

that has been unfolded in the mind of madness;

Desolation through the demons at the mind's edge,

Bleeding heart of darkness; simple song and slithering

statements left painted in the dark, I want to wade

in the valley of my malcontented synapses and pray;

Holy are you, Father;

When the curtain falls and the dust settles;

where will be our standing spot; what will be

our lot in captivated sin; forgiveness is a dirty

word spoken on the backs of madmen;

Hope, for the day, is enough.

A midsummer's madness bellows, and from the balcony,

before the lock's undone; I hear you wanting,

in the same vain that I'm wanting you;

And so closed are our channels of perception,

these dissonant walls of construction;

malformed and disillusioning, we keep our clothes;

wandering in the hallways; unsure of where to go.

And in our falling principles,

our fast, unfettered sin;

we purge the notion of tomorrow's blame;

And go in;

Inside the room of filth, inside the essence

of our destined predisposal to desire;

Naked; not alone.

The lochness breathes,

and takes control of me while I sleep in the unconscious;

white waters play at the tip of the tongue and breed

fish. A careful caress of sinister evaluation, plucked

from the breast of the virgin mother;

Socrates has had his fill of murderers and vagabonds;

the motion of the waves sits still; and I wonder,

who will save me from the depths of this ill-favored

fate; who will claim me for their breast and be my

mother; one comes to mind, perhaps another;

And the angels play their violins;

While I weep to the music of a misdirected mind.

Life on the edge of containment; life in a box,

and death; which lingers in the fringes,

forsaken; and not forsaken; a troubled mind,

I have the consequence of sin in mine;

Two stories up, and the story is incomplete;

pages of a held book; frosting on an unlit cake;

the semblance of an order unobtained; and destiny

my ill-begotten fate; catered to the straying of

belief;

When all the pages coalesce; what diamonds will

be drawn from it, what fuel for the fires of hell

will be drawn from it; or what music will be

likened unto heaven's own; what will be the end?

Another daily consequence surrendered to;

the edge in my flesh, and untied relationships,

when it's falling apart, and never any medium

comes redeeming my intensity of love;

The world won't turn as long as I can't find

your number; my secret spin, my diluted still;

watch you from above, you taste like; sweets;

but neither I, I am the sour, bitter liar.

And when the evening stops, and levels out;

I want you on my plane, I want you and I

to be ok; not fighting in frustration at

my madness'. Come with me; and call the night

Ours.

The cold swells, and will there be a thawing out,

to cease the maddened parts of me, wherein I dwell;

It's another time and place, and I've rejected you,

rejected every notion of your being, and God

calls out to me in the night; for my diluted path,

Without you; without the thought of you stuck

within my mind, without the howling nonsense

of our youth's purge, and dreams make sense;

my madness isn't without borders; it careens, yes;

But in favorable direction;

Slowly I let up and see the light of my penetrators;

the ones who purchased me with their own blood,

and I see the host of heaven dancing on the cloud,

Rhythm of the night, drown me one last hour

in your saving grace.

Unfastened folds of flesh, dripping sweetly,

the notion of a king disrobed and for consumption;

the call to arms; and when the cock has crowed,

another round of sentiments exchanged,

We wait on ashen piles of dead,

and trip within the hour of their damning;

we fall and rise again; with faces cold and grey;

no mirth, no joyous tone; no surrender to love's

sweet call, only the moment of fear and realization;

that this is how things are;

Reality can come as a predator;

Enslave our minds through deep demands and listen

little to our dreams, crushed beneath its feet;

On a pyre, burning our fantasy.

The shades of color wear thin, and I'm spent;

this delusional foray has taken its toll,

and will yet take its everything from me;

in a steady state, one which only rarely comes;

I find the odd things pleasurable and the painful

so very bitter on the tongue;

Written memory, within the space of an hour

since time was spent; and holding my head under

water, where the angels get their fix; I find

a dream of my undoing spinning circles through

my mind; a dream of desolation and of desires,

Cold things call to me; dead things;

and I will give them space for half an hour,

then wrap them up; I hope; to take the garbage

out, and set them on fire;

To burn the world they made me succumb to.

Between us, between the lovers' quarrel;

when fighting for our place within the heavens,

sun shines down and captures the stars

within its net of bright, white light;

and they are disappeared into the summer day;

Lightning and shadow play,

and dissonant sounds of surrender; in the distance;

what world it was is lost to chaos and disruption;

A silent bid for the surreal,

Where oceans pretend; sail smoothly on the midnight wind;

make love, make mild intoxicating smiles and eyes;

and sink ships; drown them out in the belly of the beast.

The dissonant past protrudes; and makes a mess

of my mind; it captures reason and longing;

And desire;

Where commons place their finger, I hold my tongue

and in the high esteem of luxury; resistance bleeds,

form and factor; dissolute dreams turned into a delusional

space of reality; fears glisten and become untruths;

I wrap my mind around the bend of iron shaft;

conclude that all reality must face God's wrath;

in consequence of nature's ill-becoming breath,

what lies mistaken, and what lies beneath the

floorboards as we sleep;

Demons of the deep;

Dressed in ivory, and pearl; and black.

The useful arm of our surrender,

and happenstance was born; it ushers in

new contemplative storms, while reaching through

the dismal solitude of madness;

Corpses claim the right hand of my god;

made from mercury, ash and brittle bone;

and through my hopeful sign of seizures;

I awaken with a new god; fashioned from

dusty cobwebs and seasoned bread; and wine.

I place him on the offering plate;

and introspection takes its grip,

I favor the old god; built on rock

and sentences; formulaic programming;

dusty words;

And to this scenic pathway of the synapses;

when dolls were made of ceramic not of plastic;

Jesus and his face, were painted on the piece;

Rolling heads of rubber; make no mistakes.

Not today; not in the long march to salvation's

pristine rose, where people blossom or are thrown;

head and foot into the flames; not today,

Today is the day of coming clear;

bleeding out desire's burning blood;

and listening to the whispers of insanity.

When corpses rise; and all the world's a flood

of bodies; secreting away their sins in hopes

of non-discovery, and ecstasy's embrace is barred;

The passions of the flesh have taken up their space

in time; and pass away;

Here is the hour of our judgement.

Poison bubbles for the dearly departed,

little shocks of enmity and helium;

balloons, for the death that's come upon

their faces; for saving grace and the

mystery of death;

What's here to for and hither; mentioned

in the holy books; what death can corrupt,

it can prolong the pages of this work;

and bleed them dry; of ink,

Open-ended sentences about the struggle;

for the devout to worship angels and

their counterpart; for dreams to linger

as a taste, what world would we be in;

if grace in death and life were not

an object of desire;

Real women, and their weight;

in gold, reality needs the worth

of its subjects;

A pocket full of ashes.

In this conclusion lies another purchase

my soul is bleak; and tires of frustration;

the edges of the mind bleed, and become

insanity's awareness; for proper price,

I could consume myself in fire;

But the will to resurrection's claim,

the simple soul suffice; and at the hour

of my desire's inability to contain

herself; I weep, and bleed; and beg

Forgiveness comes; and then I sin again;

What method to this madness,

and what denial of substance;

seduced by the means of the mind.

### Cherry Pie

The wild evolution of my skin;

and are dreams corrupted by the scent of salt;

a blast of wind, washing over the sea;

uncertainty; to feed the belly of the whale;

Drowning in the fires of a hell,

Washed clean now, in the sparks of resurrection;

and retired to new light in the dawn of indecision,

where white armies pass into the blackness,

Pure love, remains tied to the anchor;

And for what it's worth; lies motionless

upon the sea's edge; like the movement of a

broken mind; corrupted and bent;

Insanity's pyre; and the blood of a destructive sin,

hoping; holding onto reason with the serrated blade;

waiting and watching for the signs of a resolute

decision to be passed; passing time; and passing out

with the madness of a drunken god,

Sutured and saturated in blood.

The tightening of the screws, and my incineration;

played out on the dawn of resurrection's denial,

a wholesome drink; a cocktail mixed for two;

the rite of passage through, the deep beyond;

And it devours me in this moment;

A certain sin, passed on pages of selective script;

written for the dreams of Mexico; a sage's brush

stained fingers black; sordid and transmogrified;

A burnt up bastion of the clay fire;

Irresolution comes, to scrape away the sins of my mind,

and in its moment I am transfigured; for the planes

of passage's rite; diluted and drained;

Carry me into my conclusion; and sell me short.

The rest is in shreds; paper torn in boxes,

kept from the dark; kept clean, in our arms;

while we fly them through the gateway into

heaven, and sing the song of the dead;

Burdened little wings; speak softly;

Flap in the breeze, and come hither;

your wanton flesh and my desirous bite;

may take a long moment's notice to separate,

and what steals swiftly, in the dark;

Can allot the time for you to awaken after;

Reason bleeds, into the pool of my madness;

and there it swirls and coagulates,

blood runs thinner than concrete reality;

and so the sphere of surreptitious thought

revokes my access at the doors of dreams.

The crooked mind; corrupted beyond repair,

has place for you, and you alone may linger;

when far-fetched flings of insanity strike,

to reduce the harshness of my tones;

instill a sense of melancholy in the mind;

A dream's complete.

Another story brews; this one of slight imperfections

in your breasts; and on your breath a voice that

withers my will to project my strings of desire;

palms up and without warning they seize you;

in your sleep; and in your bed,

A violent tale of God, his grace rescinded;

and of fire; the kind which brews on clouds'

backs; I reap the wind, and wane;

My fingers in my ears; I place a blessing;

Systematic seizure of a storm.

Untangles and unloosed mess of motion,

so surreal, so cerebral; like twisting

of the tongue; it marks our passage home,

And I would ride next to you the way;

driving through the crystal realm,

embedded with decay and detritus;

Its lives, its soul and sundered poisons;

inking out upon the mark, upon my neck;

it's driven backwards and you forwards;

coming at me in your terror, and I smile,

it's just a scratch; it's nothing;

But I can feel it in your face, the world

devouring me; nothing I can do to save myself,

And I beg you to pull me under,

where the clouds can't see;

to where the rodents sleep,

so we can, one last moment's breath;

Be unafraid.

In essence, it is the isolative section of a poem;

wrapped up in ecstasy's survival for your pleasure,

and for your pain; bleeding edges of the knife,

cutting in ; into your skin.

The slow movement of the blade, as it crosses corners;

and contains every part of you I long for,

the sweet caress of cherry pie upon the lips;

drowning in saliva.

I wash you off, in a bath of blood;

stain your sheets with the element

of my passion's prolonged completion;

Each sense attained to new extremes;

I bite and scratch, and bleed you,

You make the demons scream.

The unattained heart of sacrifice,

poured out on the blessed of the world;

and in one small schism through her voice,

the command is sealed; shut in the minds

of millions;

I seize up, in violent strands of scorn;

Press my body next to yours; and hold too tightly;

an hour passes, and I've not changed my stance,

blood runs; and the passion plays out as a mystery

of enchantment; cold stories told in the dark,

with flashlights; ghosts and goblins, and Satan.

The seizure rips out my heart,

devours it; and what's left is a bitter shell

asking for forgiveness; and so I trust in God,

put faith in His divinity once more, plan my actions

as if they were His own; I drive grace down,

and pull it out from the temple; as my own.

Step into the fold; flock to the persecutor

of souls and be granted judgement at the hour

of conception; something must take my mind

away from this madness; if there is no God,

or is one; where is proof of reason?

Where dreams flow into reality and the gospels sing;

Heaven's ascension and the torment, based on

numerous tales of God; I want to scream out

in the madness of my mistakes;

Bleed them out and pray;

To my imagination's hold on me; my fiction, and my

fantasy; scream out--

Holy, holy, holy;

The word of God, forever on the lips of angels.

The dying's done, and I can recollect the long

days turning thumb over thumb; nothing ever happened;

and I shed my skin; climbed over caution, and the wind;

and wrestled down the homebound traveler;

Each green piece;

Of my home ; it's not my home, not any longer;

a plastic pot, a filler; it's not my home.

But if it were; when I lay awake at night;

I'd see myself as a messenger; my own

understanding of the torn up night;

homebound; un -touched by the fury,

messenger.

The Sunday bells ring loudly in my ears;

this dream I cannot shake has made me mad,

and insanity pours out through secretions;

in my art, lengthening my own disruptive

thoughts;

For the swelling, for the blame;

An adjective remarked in flame,

and for the pieces of my mind; fractured,

gone up in smoke and ash before my fall;

Two lives remain, one of sanity's complaint

and another of this filth and strain;

remaining chaotic through an ever filtered

fluster of remains.

The dry mark, held in hands as in surrender;

an opened wound; a closed up realization that

nothing is new beneath the sun; a lifeless gaze;

entering my heart's entangled skin;

Poison and putrid feelings left within,

I dream of octagons; and crab apples;

and fortune's non-serenity; I dream of

the cusp of selective procedures, gone

awry; Instead of silence, I crave mirth

and laughter; and misery, and screams

of birth proceeding out of the mouth;

what fortune lies in settling for anything;

I'd rather drive a stake into the heart

of my frenzied state than be a bitter

one to pass the moment off with a long

winded, goodbye kiss.

The aesthetic of my sins,

all pure loneliness and rage,

with a hint of irony;

Pure water trapped beneath a cave;

enclosed for only secrets to remain,

hidden beneath the crust of rock,

and slate;

My slighted hand, and destiny of my

desires; carved out in lines within

the palm; my once entangled breath,

now bleeding at the seams of my

intended end;

Close quarters ; to you,

belief in purity's resistance to a change,

an unsummed state, pressing in on my

bethrothal, signed and dated; sours.

Instead of returning to old paths,

let's make new light of what we have;

here, beneath the ashes of our fantasy,

clever wills and wishes for the moon,

a sizeable fistful of fairy dust;

A mildly magical compartment;

For feeding ducks and crocodiles,'

what's worth our momentum for this change;

what new springs come and lifen up,

what realizations are made, when the call

comes in at 4am and everything's in shambles;

Delete the posts; delete every and each word

ever spoken, arise; mystery woman of the deep,

keep the candles burning; keep the dreams

turning in the mind;

But do not take my innocence;

The stained ensemble of a broken kiss,

and a parted lip, bleeding her goodbyes;

fair season for a lover to step in,

fair and light; for flowers bloom but once;

but love in cycles,

And my cycle is due;

The cool contraptions of speech whisper

easily through my mind, and my unfocused

sentiment of tears; reality is a fool,

and sparse flames touch my lips; to carry

me onto a bed, of self-destruction.

Once there, I will never leave;

departing would be madness.

Unfocused and estranged, in the bedroom;

the walls are caving in, and I can't find

the door; leading out of this prison;

with ancient tomes, decrepit tombs;

and season's dark descension into winter;

The death of a loved one,

Death and life; devouring at their own pace;

even in breath of life there is a fog;

an unknown factor of darkness which lingers

on the mind, and it becomes you;

How cradling my cursed babe will not bring

sentience or life into his breath; the womb

folds in, and no religion can pretend to hear;

only God's own ears can know; and what pain

foretold of madness I can't be sure,

It wasn't the state of dreaming that set me in.

Eruption in my head, and in my space; is silent

introspection of a case of insanity, gone

downhill; the pleasantries of our past lie

unremembered in the silence it contains;

Life is a misery;

Life is two-thirds irresponsive to change;

and when you wield your heart's attire,

I can't control the pain,

Past loves and unrestraint;

Distractions from the darkness, usher more

darkness yet; and I am falling in,

Unrestrained.

Cool intrigue and mystery; and the prickles

down my spine, when I and you first touch,

beneath the ashen sky; where ravens feed

upon the flesh of earth's surviving, and the howling

symphony of wolves caters to the pleasures

of the ear;

What a world,

inspired by filth and beauty;

substance as matter mistaken

for aesthetics; sublime

anticipation crawls across the spine;

Setting nerve endings into panic,

Rites of malnutrition and dark,

horrendous deeds; manifest; and stay

a hand from righteousness,

No mark for purity in this foul world;

Merely a sedative nature of a thing.

The world is access, and attainment; a plush doll

ready for the taking, in a pitch black void,

where everything is felt through other lenses;

I hold my hand out, prepared for the bite,

A bite which never comes;

Or if it does, it takes the veil of secrecy;

and hidden in my lips, devours my love.

What good is this madness of thought;

and who contains the will to take my heart;

bleed it through to its circumference,

an unnecessary sin; passed down through

generations of broken scabs and wounds

that wind themselves deep into the center

of it all.

The phantom fallout, a cry beneath the blanket

of my disappearing self; once covered, never to

emerge a whole and sacred human being of the soul;

flesh retains my fury, and my anger; do you want

my body now, just say the word; and I will be yours,

To have, and to hold; until death.

It sits in a shell, surrounded by the feeling

of our blessed youth; empowered by the night and its

surroundings, the veil of truth and every unforseen

mistake I've ever spoken in her ear; we shake

the tree and eat the fruit;

Devour it whole;

And, as if the night's mistake were made through

our obsessive bite; we blame the moon; and stars

for our delight; we crave its flesh as if it were

each other's; drowning ourselves in its forbidden

flavors.

Rest easy, on the tongue;

Tomorrow is just a fleeting moment to our death,

rest easy, and savor; its deliciousness.

A shred of joy; in that false start of decay,

where things turn black for a moment; and then

the light comes shining through the blinds,

When all the world has turned a bitter cold;

sequence seals the threat of my love;

so come in, the water's tepid, come in;

the house is still on fire, and as it burns,

we'll watch from here; at a distance;

Until the cave collects the ashes of the dead.

Dead, in the water; fed, on by the snake,

for reason comes to claim the innocent;

rejection passes through an unclaimed

territory of pain; and I can't see, my eyes

won't bleed enough to shake away my sins;

Anguish at the thought of holding on to

something so pure; without consequences;

I rise; in ashen fields I bide, my time

while holding onto every facet of our calm

internal state; you hold my own; encircling

every breath's melodic puff; hastening

our death, with each delivery;

Mounted on a pedestal of ivory;

sing to me, dear creature of the dark.

The breeze contains my sincerity, captured

in a breath by your arrival; Such intense

gaze, so brief before the point is driven in;

Resist me now, my claim to corruption;

and I'll be better still to have my death,

as purposed for the fortune of my breath,

leaking out upon the wind's womb,

Course in clouds, steady death; it sinks with

rain; becomes an unsteady system of pain;

reduces my risk of dying alone; I shed myself,

my tears, my folded body; surrender it to you;

Catch me, beneath the cold hard rain.

The rites to heaven; who will bear me witness,

as I praise in rhetoric and in faith; all

things not forgotten; some things passed away,

what will happen in the end to sinners as they

Stray from the only path to heaven;

Once, when we were written in the book,

I found your bed and threw you on your back;

howling at the moon as we tore our clothes,

The essence of your company kept me from sin;

But here we are; again.

Throwing each other down; into the pit.

The new moon rises in her unseen glory,

resting on the company of clouds; while your

eyes look on, as if for purchase to another

world, and I dream it with you; responsive fate,

separated by miles and miles of suburban landscape,

And I track you down; with eyes closed,

Seeing your form below the clouds; and in surrender,

what moonlight washes; on your face, the pitch black

moonlight of tonight's becoming, and I drink in

each drop of servitude; to see you belly up,

Wandering alone, in the dark; beneath the moon.

Through our beloved shared interest; our plague,

and our humanity; I see what's happening to us,

to you, and me; and in the valley of our still

water; find you plain enough for the eyes; and

bright enough in your heart;

Could you captivate me; again as when

We first met; take me below the surface of the sea,

and drown me with your voice,

By then I'd have to listen to the stitches;

digging in through pains, with needles

I would have to hear you cross my path;

like the good witch in the story books,

and hear your suffering; realize your decay,

and my own; and see us suffering and dying

as we are.

She will suffice, and in a word; it's spent,

all my counter-intuitive sentiment, upon her

eyes; shining like suns in the night;

like little stars of bitter faith, feasting

on the madness in the room,

So much for reason's requirements;

and into longing I purge myself my faith;

and enter ecstasy's embrace; the bitter

sweet pill of a lonely estate;

Forced remembrances with tomorrow's lack of grace;

Good will, good season to all;

when the chill air remains a bitter

death; cold creeps in, a black breath;

Come to cradle the savior's death bed.

Perhaps we should call it an end,

destroy what we have built of our relations;

one to another, and keep our heads down;

between knees not in the clouds; where frightful

things can happen in love;

And to our dance, and to our song;

Say its surrender; name it dust and ashes;

for the claim of all the angels , so long.

But the sinister rebellious nature of this love,

keeps me longing; and to our time abiding fate's

reality of form; I find the coupling irresistable,

Perchance to dream.

We sleep in shadows, in the midst of darkness;

and I succumb to dreams of desolation,

your hand rips through the fabric of my reality;

and chases away the voice within my spine;

Grasping onto shreds of the divine,

I paint the body blood red;

eruption of fire; spreading like a mist,

down this empty hole I call my heart;

and it's angels' breath which precedes me,

Death in discovery of who I was; and what

I may become; a recent standing post

for the divine; a current problematic sore;

A destitute ensemble for Satan's gloom.

The irresponsibility of our youth; days spent

dripping wet with sins, my life and my madness

ushered in as a cold affront to my being and my soul;

Irreconcilable theatrics of a game played more

or less for the game itself; not for the stakes,

but as surrender to the livid crushing of myself,

To make amends; I'd offer all my living;

without consent, without care for what will

happen to me; my love undoes itself in silhouettes,

carries on the color of a dead crow;

What's spent detritus against sky blue;

The holy know; they have surrendered their palms

to the ashes, and in grey make sacrifices to their

god of death;

What wanton fields their spades must braise;

to keep the living from the dead; the holy order

from the waste; the sacrifice of death from the living.

Well into the hour of my belief; and corpses rise,

the dead come back to life, to drown out the words

of the living; what shifting sands and predestined

fate allow; would you sacrifice yourself for this?

And when the world drips ivory blood; and you can taste

its flavor on the tongue, sweet, sweet necrotic taste;

and enter winter's cold embrace,

against the skin; against the soul one love's warming

touch could keep you whole; forever in return

Could nest; could spread your wings and fly,

but when the freedom lasts an hour and a day,

and you're left dreaming;

Let the flight of angels dance with destiny,

and abide yourself in pieces on the ground.

Lingering remains of what could have been;

the stuff of legends and devoid reality,

my rhythm's to an untamed song of destitution;

rhymes instill a passion and profusion;

Derogatory hymnals played in backwards;

sentenced to die; the brushstroke cannibal,

written in back words; storm come ashore,

and the way the windows are washed;

it is another whorish night; the sheep are

bleating to the rhythm of a rhyme,

Instilled passion plays without aesthetic.

Whole words without meaning; transcribed with faith;

over-emphasization at the hands of an aesthetic source,

derived by the patterns of the dead;

Hold my own hand; and at our conclusion you'll see our

destiny lies with those of little faith; crawling out

of sewer holes to spite the holy rollers; and to

emphasize the meaning of their mark; We'll split asunder

our regret and pain, and make perfect little angels,

stains to take snapshots in the dark.

The emphasis is in the right hand;

Contortionist glory and the will to remove yourselves

from the stain; from sin's domain, from the anti-aesthetic

wherein we play; save the holy temple; and pray

For God's redemption in this afterlife.

The border line of our entire background,

belief in magic; and belief in love are one

and the same, my mind is madness when it comes to you;

and in this single story house, I shutter up and

dress; as though it were the first day of our meeting,

Cherry red dress;

What would be the long way to the distance of our love;

where we had shattered and shaken every footprint,

to keep the wind from howling in the night; to keep the

bed warm for you; and to keep safe from all the demons

Lurking at the edges of my mind;

Baseline; triggered with a hatfall; a dip,

disruption in, the norm; you can't complain

when you're not, there; and I'm not ever,

there. So concrete walls and paper cups

could hold me back from my true love;

but the name of a thing is not the same,

as the thing itself;

And I concuss myself against the backdrop

of my dreams, concurring with myself what

is reality; but who's to say, because as

dreamers do so does the world at times,

And in my mind, you've left me; and in my

thoughts, you've come back; and when I

stick my hand into your space; you're missing

What section of change; what portion of the

torment, what layer of hell am I in?

Displaced from what reality should be, stepping

out of time into disrupted space; and sinking

into dreams I can't remember ever having;

the long night beckons me to come; with her

hair down, and in curls, she waits for me

beneath the dusk sky;

Ever wanting to terrorize my life;

With thoughts of love and passion, what will

provide a glimpse of my desire; she beckons

me to come into her arms;

And when the moment shines, and all the sky

pales at the first darkness; she lies in wait;

Temptress of the night.

When there's no sign of summer in the night,

and then the darkness takes us in; binds us,

to its will; what will we be, then; but

no distance comes across the naked field,

no memory of saviors or of saints; just broken

shards of religious dreams, played out on the

jukebox for dancing,

And we shall dance the night away,

within these golden gowns, please each other's

pain until the night falls down and leaves a bed

of scars and sutures, to remember you by.

Fly, fly away; pretty bird.

The motion of the waves; as they wash over me,

as they wash over you; our feet within the tide;

on separate bodies; of land, where we lock

fingers through the sensation of the waves,

Your hands are liquid fire;

And although I come with my forbidden fruit,

eat; drink; be merry, for it comes with a price;

and the price is paid on both our heads,

in the dousing of the night in flames,

When the angels come to collect,

what then; will be forgiven for our times,

spent wandering in the mire; in the fog,

undoing our bootstraps; and settling in,

for the season to drink the fire of God's

abandonment.

When it please you; selfish denial for my flesh,

take what ever portion you could get; reduce me,

and here within the hour's span; send the signals

pouring through my brain; on fire; on the floor,

driving me insane, because the flashbacks won't stop

coming, and the distance is unknown; how much longer

will this torture last, and to whom, do I pray

that it should end;

A breath upon fresh cloud;

where no man stands,

alone with the bitten angels;

dancing as they were when I arrived;

Seductive smiles, all;

and symphonic sounds,

to drive the hateful

and unrepentant out;

And I fall like water,

or like blood, into the pool.

Droplets in the river.

In this demise of words; the slow decay of language;

I hold you sacred, almost; complete in dream and tongue,

before the bath of salt sets in its bitterness;

four hours of your innocence, that is all should be

required for me my magic and my light to shine,

Opened skin; and paralyzed thought to bleed,

into the pools of my collection, into the stream;

and where love ends, and tragedy begins is no

laughing matter; murk and dismal claim

could hold you under, a moment more; but I won't,

I will gather you in as much as is required.

The world is newly changing,

neither for better or worse; but shifting in style,

the dead Kennedy wrapped up in a cloth, and holding hands

with Jesus; in his shroud; pure light-hearted satisfaction,

until the bills start tumbling and we see comparison of

sinful arts, wholly as they are to be; the naked truths

and dismembered sky are diamonds shining;

Four corners of the earth;

where from the winds howl; and proclaim the savior

of heaven, four corners of my house; where I stave

off my madness. The four corners of the earth;

a sounding block,

Everything comes at high tide, tonight;

the world gone missing in an hour;

Mid-night.

Inside this world; within its bounds and reaches,

where simplicity is a harbinger of death; we race

to finish what we've begun, we race to the end

of our survival; and all things accounted, what

will be our end; when the sun cools;

And flavor of life no longer threatens our senses,

what will be our end; when dust settles in space,

and nothing lasts of our ascending and descending climb;

What will be will be,

And into the end we plunge; full force,

dying suns and sentient clouds; the face

of God's anger playing out, on the heads

of little children;

Surely there is something to this madness.

What's been missed, between our senses and our

sublime instruction; cannot be said for hours

until the turntable plays our song; and then

we'll carry in the laughter of our demise;

the world on fire; and we can't watch the wailing

at the wall,

I've spent my night in longing; and daytime

in the company of sinners; we all partook

the body and the blood of our dear lovers,

and now perhaps we'll pay the price for our

sentiments of sin; and their required rites;

Stapled to the pages and recorded

for the company of the dead;

stitched together and hastened

for the forgiveness of our sins;

dried with ivy leaves and sent

with open-handed love; to the

address that was required on the form.

The resolution of my form, my minor inconveniences

to you and to the others sitting close; a minor

incantation spent in the dark passages of books,

a holy; holy narrative without the thunder at the

breast; and without clear purpose; nonetheless

a holy script endowed with several passages;

Open the book, my love; and let it feed on you;

And in the dark where demons sting; and gnaw,

where melancholy dreams drift madly on the wind;

Where blue-eyed travelers go to die;

and the seriousness of mind leaves us unrelated

in our sins; the madness of the mind ushers in

the depths of the deep blue pools of reason.

Within this cage of self-fulfilled prescriptions,

where prophecies are flat rate and the eyes to the

infinite play tricks upon the mind; your self-

proclaimed messiah is here; floating on the wind and

captured in clouds; he sings hallelujah and the

temple walls crumble into desolation;

I am your purgatory report; your persuader,

Let the noxious tomb well incompletely,

and the walls break; and the saving grace

be irresponsive to our prayers; what good

is a god that doesn't answer; and what

insanity is it to believe in purity of form;

The rest lies in aesthetics.

The price we pay for discrepency; in youth's

terrible reminder of what day can bring,

the dead are all remembered by the living;

and in this walk of fresh revival I see your face;

Distant and removed from my own;

That terrible reminder of what tricks the mind can play,

while summarizing dreams of dark tendrils ripping

through the flesh;

The whole remains visible, and the scouring

will not wash clean your remainder;

open up your bite and make it fresh,

Let me drink in the pain of our embrace.

Fat symbols, filling up the pages of my books;

these mathematical illusions, they don't care

or pretend to, they only function for their

purpose and leave a gentle light tingling sensation

in memory; to hold them up as reminder;

Fire vents substance ; through the roof,

fire evicts.

But you don't mind my battered thoughts,

my plainly erratic judgement calls;

my insanity; you prove to me your interest

in the way you swallow every ounce of my

attention's needs;

Drink; and drink; drink,

I will call you out; tomorrow's sky

we can talk beneath tomorrow's sky;

talk dirty, sour thoughts.

This nightmare illusion; my delusional self

dripping through the sweat, and my tears

and blood; the only chains to my intoxication

of breath; and my reality's salutation

comes in gasps, this is the real me breaking

through;

Desire, a pulse of the forbidden; chance

claims a portion of the night's endowment;

to be pure of thought or reason, to be cleansed

of madness;

And in this washed up living breath,

I find you waiting without; in the series

of my dreams, in my surrender to insanity;

And I abuse our time with my own struggles.

Come to me, completely in the night's own

grip; wash my silken scarf with your scent;

turn it about within your hands' grip;

hold it under water until it is drenched,

and seize my moment here, with you.

The worth of dreams, and reality's split mind;

what comes into the world; as birthed,

from irrepressible disruption of space;

with cool, collected breeze and sometimes

bitter taste; its night ; it's night

Sing to me the campfire song,

With howling winds and destruction; sing to me

the peppermint's cool breath, and when in our

abiding time we place our hands upon the breast

each other's heart; and swallow a pill for our

accumulated sleep;

Go down dreaming; to go down in the night,

dreaming; to sleep among the winter trees;

and nestle ourselves close against the fire,

To breathe the soul of destiny and denial.

Tomorrow's ringing bell, today's magenta sun;

and turning over with cold hands, I couldn't find

you there; and so I scoured what I knew of your

displacements, and came unbidden in the night's

majestic hour; seeking you, underneath your

bright full moon;

Internal sanctions of your form; fleeting

glory of a skin, passed salvation's stormy seas

and entered in anew; fresh blood and delicate heart;

those what I lack, I admire,

Two drives down without a metaphor; I see you

standing in the crisp black air; all frosting

without clothes; without adornment,

Naked soul; without wants or care;

for anything, a naked soul; split with reason

and madness; a young, unoccupied mind

in full blossom; singing madly into the night,

Her patient song of flames and fire; and love.

In spite of emptiness' cage; and all corruption,

of the faces of your enemies; despite the

deaths you carry out upon the night wind,

claiming sanctity of purpose; despite your

word; holy to the letter, each script

handed down through ages to the bleeding

disruption of their design;

I will abide in your church of sin;

cut off my ears and listen to the preaching;

go;

In this indifferent pastime;

when the world's past dawn;

and everyone is out looking for

redemption or a warm bed;

Let me bide my time with you,

beneath the sheets of isolation;

within your arms.

Reveal yourself to me, completely;

when the clock strikes, and no one's home;

and the lights are out; undress.

In this private sentiment we can be one;

shared and secret form of your psychotic

schism of a mind; undress.

Let the cool wind of the A/C blow over you;

and give you goosebumps on your skin,

let the rise and fall of my chest,

be your comfort; and wash away our sins

in sexual fulfillment; drive away

our demons of the night.

At the forefront, where everything comes to some

conclusion; the brain's final reduction of a thought,

it seems you can't escape me here; as though trapped

in a poetic phrase; within.

Force feed me your imaginary skin, this is your body;

and the stains of our evolution can remain,

untouched by human hands, you are a creature of pure

madness; hallucination of my deepest dark desires;

I will take you, and drink; it is your blood;

Sacrificed for the sins I have incurred;

my savior and my solution to the problem of religion's

past tense, where God and man devolve into a

seance for the dead; I will open my eyes and part

my lips and have you all;

And drown in the mist of my own madness.

At the peak of madness, and lack of grace;

I show myself your entirety, each miniscule

detail I've consumed; and throw you down

into the bed of my delusions, hammering out

the nails to keep you in, these simple

stark picturesque endowments of my heart--

Belong to you;

And the memories that make you up, that take

your essence into being, reminding me of every

love I've ever lost; and then the ones I've

only fantasized about;

Reason contains my madness, within its box.

And the murderous, the wild and raving

lunatic, writhes; down within the cells

of the mind; slipping under steam vents;

beneath the grates; writhes without retreat,

Without escape.

The doctrine of my madness, how its instruction

passes through the folds of mind and helps me

see the light; forbidden truths and fantasy,

all revealed in the corrupted pathways of the mind;

And fortune waits for you, as if to chew the bindings

of our love, fate keeps us company as the hour lengthens;

and in this hold; I feel a revelation on the wind,

the sour song of our revising; trumpeted,

Four horsemen, and the apocalyptic presence in my dreams,

can you hear them sing; the way I hear them;

Isolation and decay, the forbidden fruit of sleep deprivation;

all reason thrown into the wind on a bout of manic delirium;

she calls, and I can't choose but answer her dark voice,

that bleeding angel; my lover and mine.

A dark decline, stuttering through stairways

in the mind; each passage leading to nowhere;

in particular, a steady climb, without direction,

and with your face as my only guide,

I see you all the more clearly now;

When sun has shone your beauty;

In the mind; where all things circle about your form,

the only thing I keep living for; the beauty in my mind,

absolute. Encased in glass and hidden from the world;

You, be my edge to tear apart this darkness,

level out descent's indirection and consume me

with your beauty; play the song I haven't heard

you play, yet I know you have it in you,

A dissonant sort of song,

for devils and for saints;

A tribute to love's lost cause; and to renewal

by fire.

Setting all memories aside; I watch you walk,

tattoos of flames inching up your calves,

as you walk the room's edges; looking for escape,

But you'll find none;

This is the end, and the consumption of your soul;

I will require of you what was required of me; before,

When the darkness melted momentarily,

and the earth stood perfectly still,

you had captivated me so perfectly,

within the well of souls; and tonight,

is the devouring matrimony of destruction;

A candle mass; seance for the darkness;

And here; in your arms, I will abide and wish

my death be made concrete; through your

substance reborn without consent. Throw you

into the fire; and I; we will burn the right hand,

until this marriage be sealed with our blood;

And when it's done; we'll sacrifice each other

to the God of our creation's myth; devourer

of souls and Lord of all Destruction.

Untitled reminiscences of a fevered past,

prolonged in the glory of your coming;

might madness sink her breath into my skin;

and sweep a cautionary barrier for my complaints;

All false skin erodes with the reduction of my dreams,

and into coming pure; and into remedy, we shall remain

my lover; my only friend within the shallow pool of mind,

There comes a time when all must dissipate into tears,

the time is right, and the moon and the stars are all

aligned for this seance of our souls; keep me company,

and last ; this short hour before my passing

Into the deeper wells of dreams;

Sink your teeth in, and bite; another passing into

your sweet breath, and confusion's dark witchery;

Blessed be you and I; within eternal darkness,

Crying love, sweet love; through the night.

The fluid eye swells, just enough,

to let the world bring forth in a bath of blood;

the one who has united us in sin; and forsworn

all allegiance to a crown of helping hands;

but dwells within the attic of the mind's eye;

Swelling bright pink as if inflamed;

And it would take a blade and muscle

to tear it out; three days' drying with the flames;

three days' sequence for the pain it's engaged;

such fantastic gloom as we dissolve her medication;

and secrete the mathematics required for an act of God;

A momentary lapse in judgement, and the persmission

of an angel to be spared the lash; what's least of all

important is the time we're stuck together,

Here in my murky mind; in the darkness of madness;

it is here we can write the folly of our lives;

a sinner's complaint, a deed in dark estate; a collapse

through the final holding of the mind.

We gather in the madness of the mind; and carry

sentiment of sin and justice through the midst;

entertaining melancholy dreams and apathy,

remiss; the sadness of our everlasting state,

We hide judgement from ourselves;

And flounder in a state of simplistic surrealism;

one where every man or woman must play their part,

unto the death of all creation; let the sky consume

with fire, the earth; and let the straying come

to their repentance or eviction; let the cleansing

begin;

Religion is sedative for the masses;

let them come in droves, to hear the word of God.

Where the sky falls, and the grass is ripped out

by pieces; where the feline prowls, and the hundred

thousand soldiers proclaimed dead; wherein the

chemistry of love is malformed and untested,

Where youth brings dreadful passage into night;

Here, my harmony; and my betrayed surrender to the sky's

dimly lit destructive scene; here in my cadaverous self,

scouring for a dream to be fulfilled; seeking blindly

on the hope of prayer and ritual;

Come, what may be lovely dreams; or may be delusional

fantasies set forth in the mind; but come, whatever

you may; be as you like; for my time waiting is spent.

Dredge up the mystery of intent; and salve my eyes

with golden dreams; fit for prophets, kings and lunatics;

Come; and hear my heart's repentant prose;

save me from the desires that contain me.

It is black; the heart which now surrounds me,

your dirty lies, and filthy rotten tongue;

yet I do not escape you in the moment of release;

I plan my execution by your side,

When grace is granted to me,

I will ride the dark train to your embodiment,

enjoy the flesh of your corruption as it bleeds;

I will ride the dark train to your hell, into

the place where angels fear to tread; into

desolation's bed, with you.

But as the night widens; opens up the sky;

and the moon burns out without adieu;

and the stars drop, like flies;

I take a second glance around me,''

and beg the difference between life, and death.

The death toll mounts, in sum an execution

for an hour's time spent walking the aisles,

doing your work; cleaning all the people's

trash. The death toll rises;

And accountability is none; save in the hands

of the Holy Father; who leads us from our sins;

into salvation's fold, if there really ever was

an ever-after; written down in stone.

The thoughtful may reproduce their version of

aesthetic judgement; cause the rivers to form,

from nothing; and the mountains to be laid waste;

playing god becomes a feverish delusion; but one

we take; we make it granted in our eyes; a gift;

Let Christ risen decide our fate;

and the holy of holies endure

our destructive ends; let the path

of god lead to the assemblage of saints,

or to death, destruction; and emptiness,

as it is written in 20th century texts.

You are my poison sting, you are my everything;

come made with flesh and fire, and for song;

with drying eyes, the tears won't weep for madness;

and in the pitch black night you call, but I won't

come,, you are forsaken and the answer to your

misery lays in wait; waiting for your arms

to tackle it down;

And in this clear corruption of the skin,

the blood, fresh wounds poking through

clarity; purity; translucent skin,

What worries is the fear of your severed soul;

and the destruction of a heart, impure and scarred;

what lies, waking in the night; awaiting your blood,

is it empathy; is it forgiveness; or a scourge,

sent down from God to destroy you.

Whispered madness comes in many flavors;

for me it is the cool peppermint of love lost;

and on the rim of insanity's cool bite,

I find sometimes a sliver of reason;

to hold me in throughout the night;

it is this semblance of nonexistence;

imperfect gods with unclear doctrines;

Which keeps me comforted through the depths of night.

This is my last breath, and in this world I rest;

for pieces of the flesh to scatter to the wind,

and so the soul decides its course; to steady

and to pray, or ripped apart on destructive winds;

to stray or to abide in time with destination,

as its course;

What madness drives this slipping soul under;

and what desires catch her unawares; does the soul

need to place itself on high, can it not abide

in the shadows of the unwanting, for a time;

Rest easy; rest much, there's much to do;

before the completion of a soul's song

has fed, and the appreciation of my lunacy;

hears her words.

I need your voice of reason, to be stayed;

what madness has driven me into, thoughts

rearranged, blindly at the edge of purpose;

Come into me, my muse;

Sell the summer short, take pity; and drive

me to your home; catch me warmly in your embrace

and take me slowly; the arms and the heart grow

wild; take away this emphasis of God and religion;

Make the heart steady; for dreams can paralyze;

sedate me in your gaze.

I need you more than ever.

Distilled, selective memories; in a gaze,

undithered and well defined spaces in the dark;

Where you are; sleeping beneath the urban sky,

where I am it's daylight still and cavities

won't open the night's ambitious lies; deceit

for dreams and instinctive permutation,

When you come; light as the sun and intellect

phasing fast into superiority of insight;

I'll wait, and I'll watch you shine my beautiful

sun; waste no time on unfocused dreams;

light your mind and bleed into the sun;

Fit for form and purpose; your body shines,

and its curves, its luscious curves; forboding

spheres of light shatter through, its curves

unhinge my jaw; unhinge my plastic moment;

Reality sets through its motions into dream,

and I cut loose the bonds of my enclosure;

and join the symphony of magic and prayer,

the illusion of death is held hostage here;

I pray my spells I sing for you should work.

The thin selective line; where it is crossed,

all chaos ensues; and you are there to guide me

into descent; I crawl and watch you slowly overtake

my mind; and the wind howls ever more loudly

as we complete our turns; into each other,

into the night where we are falling; into the moon.

Poised now, as an angel in the dark curtain,

I see your beauty shine; and would have no other

for my love; the essence of your purity of form,

such an abstracted remedy for my mind;

No concrete hold; no ancient talisman to grasp,

only a fold in the mind's edge can see you clearly,

Yet you are mine; my own. And I will have you.

I come into you; to where the breath succeeds in

bringing God down from heaven and the clouds in;

And in your shining sun, I step away, clearly

conscious and in plain denial of our love;

The ladder's gone, and I will not ascend with you,

my angel; but if I will ascend at all; it will be

alone. You have not fulfilled me in my desires;

Storm brews on the horizon, and you could claim

my life and will if you were wanting; a flimsy

resolve, not an iron will; will want you plenty

at the turning of the moon;

Take heart in that I've come this close to death,

to see the other side of you.

And in your walks, rejected by the muse;

you come completely to the separation of church

and state; it's sublime interjection that takes

hold of you; and chains you to the rock for which

it stands; one nation, under God;

Without liberty, for you are turned into a slave

for God's creative process, to do His will

completely; without err,

I swallow you;

In the interim of our discussion, and take you

whole into my mouth, it is the first bite

that takes you under and into me; your blood

sinks down into my throat; into my belly,

And I will have you as my own; into the night.

My message to you, in its arrival states the long

dissection of your soul; within my mind, and I

complain only in its brevity; for to know you

completely, to know your ins and outs; and then

to dream you in utter ecstasy; within my thoughts;

Purge you; the way I vomit when I have over eaten;

my soul is full of you; and I keep wanting more,

have I forgotten what it feels like to be starving;

at the bridge of death and ready for the final plunge;

Love me;

And I can go on, seeking new heights of this ecstatic

sore, and I will bleed you dry, requiring even more

of you; to fill this hole within my womb;

Blood, your blood; will satiate my desires.

Unlocked consciousness; the way you turn me inside out,

and in my bleeding words; you dig deep down and see me

naked; as I am and as I've always been; your eyes

pierce my soul, and leave me wanting every rhythm of

your heart to beat for me;

Naked; as I am and as I've always been;

Drown me out of my submissive hold; shell me into your

grasp, completely; locking the door and key held tightly,

in your protective grip; unloose me.

And as I know now of your will,

to be transposed among the angels

a soul carrier; and a sign,

Tell me what the angels can divine;

of beauty and youth such as yours;

tell me what they would decide;

should we be entwined as lovers,

unto the end of time.

Throughout our meeting and our maternal voice;

I'd see your shadow on the wall sometimes,

and cry for the first form that I could see;

within the darkness; within the plain met days

below the earth; where only the dust and

artificial light bleed through,

I'd try to keep you company,

as you played God with pretend magic;

and books. Stories for the gods,

to be blown up into, and for our

daughters' eyes; and for their

little greedy hands, we would sew

up dolls for play.

God and play; imaginary playtime,

are they not one and the same;

So if I sold you a story,

concocted by a man,

would you believe it;

set it down in stone, and say

your prayers to the one

true god of wherever it

may be from;

We swallow our sins in the company of devils;

and make complaint to God for all our malformed

states; but when aesthetics change, we worship

ourselves through vanity; and then the night

comes and we are howling toward the moon;

No right hand is held up to the sky,

It is a mystery of the night; this Satanic rite,

played out in the company of devils; and witches,

No witch worries for the hereafter; for it is

marked a festival; and a peace keeping seance,

in the darkness, we howl toward the moon;

And sing our songs of love into the unknown.

The mention of a sun; dead, foul, corrupted star;

and the voice, sounding out its name; as if

each thing had been named for the purpose of its

power; not as reference; so you and I invoke,

and seize the heart of the sun; with all its

dying rage, as if to forfeit everything;

for the meaning of a word rearranged;

I hunger for your lips; and for the plenteous

fruit we shall inherit on its passing,

Dead star; corrupted hearts;

We have become the last bastion of people,

flying toward the flames without abandon;

But could we close up, decide to feed

in other fields; take the slow train

out of here; and into the night, depart;

Save ourselves from this ill-designed plot.

Retreat into your arms, where the world is blue-grey

and everything looks as it was; before the haze,

and single file we march into tomorrow's fate;

without the scars of books to keep us somehow safe;

We ride destiny's affair;

As if it were our own; as if between our sheets

we'd shown each other something forbidden of

what is hidden in each of us,

My life is tall and thin;

take this magic ball and read my fortune;

betray me.

At the slightest hint, of desire's edge.

Our place; within each other's naked arms,

where we belong; and to the debt of sin,

and to our doubts and signs of the insignificances

of our souless breaths; I can remember a song

to simplify the saying;

Beneath the trees, where we first met;

unto the sky the shed their arms,

and into madness we were brought fist-forward,

Swimming on the edges of the mind;

where sharks patrol for fear we will

encounter strange waters; and leave the shore;

The sharks lay in wait for me, but I won't

let them scare me anymore; I'll dive through,

and swim to other seas; break through

the reef's barrier; come clean.

Pray you'll be here when I return.

The wheel's returned to the starting point;

and so our future fate is undecided,

I could claim you; and take what I desire,

for bleeding of the heartstrings and a walk

within the mire; with you, hand in hand;

required blood sacrifice for our love.

Or skip through pages of this dark, depressive

stain and hold onto what is known; and precious

to me; my own receding love; the dreams unspoken

and simple light reduced, a life without

majestic spires, without deep, passionate longing;

A life of my own; concrete and solid.

I feed; and you, my sustenance; I believe

the words which are spoken in the darkness

of our breath; and in dreams, catch me if you can,

I rely on every whisper you exude; and when the sun

shines through the leaves, and our parted lips

exposed to rays, I will deny you of my faith;

And when in holding, on the other edge of earth;

I customize my fate for your exclusion; and drink

the bitter taste of another's holy words;

I sink my teeth into her skin; and draw

Blood; as if it were a nectar from the gods,

and I would draw you into my lungs if I could;

sweet smelling angel, my little pearl.

Watch from the clouds; my madness and you,

it overtakes me; and I long for your kiss;

your simple, warming hands to hold me up,

as from a dream's enclosure; and in purity

of thought but for this rhythm of my heart;

darkness welling in me, my desire;

And you of simple gifts; abide

By me, in spirit testing every bit of faith;

so I prolong my ravings and my embittered bite;

for your atonement and my assembled sins,

I blemish myself.

Within these walls; where scorpions live,

and thrive; within these chamber walls,

where silence of the heart settles in;

and incomplete passage of the mind, grows

oppressive; within these walls; I ride

the evening tide, into the sands of

your denial,

With twisted arms, and simple turns for

complex passages; but each new turn contains

the errors of the last; and sin will not

obtain the passage into your arms,

I feel incomplete; here in my prison,

locked away from the responsibilities

of life; here, death may decide my

consciousness; and close each passage

of my life.

Your emphasis on the point of our submission,

dominating hands draw clear blood, from the scar

of your side; the place I bit you when the cannibals

fled; the other night, when dreaming ended and

the wind picked up your name; I hold you dear to me,

between the fallout and the phase shift;

where nothing's ok but your smile. So smile,

My mildewed heart can't contemplate the truth;

leaves the residue of deceased submissive song

glory and honor unrecognized; unrequired, and

undone; all residue contains only the purity of

sin, the fabric torn from religion; and instilled

with man's make-up. Smile, little sister;

Letting the hands free to reciprocate youth's

denial; a maddened frenzy ; a feverish song of blood;

can come, into this holy temple of song,

and sing her heart's request; but God doesn't answer,

doesn't heed the words of sinners.

Oblivion; the final space before my death,

and you could see me there; as fine a point of light

as the eye may witness; and your tears, however hard

they may fall; will bear the witness of my breathing,

arrested now, and cradled by the death that I deserve;

hard hands pulling me below the surface of the tide,

You wake, and I am inside your mind; beside you in our bed;

And as if fear could escalate no longer, and love could

know no deeper weakness than this birth of formlessness;

I hold you; while you're shaking, and give you the comfort

you need to pull yourself together;

Madness and delusion; strung in parts,

bleeding into our pool of incongruity;

the shelf collapses, and all the murk

of destiny and gods carries us under;

And here we find our way into tomorrow.

What's love & death but a reminder of our place

in this existence, a problematic force to curtail

our longings and desires; a shock tactic to drive

fear into the hearts of little children; and to

devour the minds of the mad ones, in turn;

Little do we know of love & death;

What is granted, and what becomes our lucid dreams,

and into the chalice of disrupted fear we bleed;

soul is captivated by these simple; simple ideas,

And yet we bleed;

As yet, we've been unaccompanied by Satan's escort;

and God has not divulged his secrets to us;

it is all guess work; and diluted faith which drives

the pinnacle of our existence, into the ground.

A scourge; and a simple song, repeated in the dark;

denial; and a candle to remember by; lost love,

the dream I had held onto for so long; a dithered

wailing in the dark; repeated by the trumpeting

of swans,

Supposed and sudden darkness fills my lungs,

and as a remedy; I withdraw your breath;

your beating little heart; and seize

your blood, thicker than water as they say,

runs; and as I pour your life and your love

into me, defacing you as you stand; you allow

Drink.

Eat and be whole; surrounded by the devil

and his own; such is the filth of this

ritual; such is the stage of this rite;

Eat; and be full, for your insinuated spell;

has been shed upon me.

The cool complaint of song; dissiminated elixir

of youth's retirement; and on the path's edge,

we take roll, you're called but don't respond,

and at the edge of the world; where dust dissipates

into utter madness and formlessness of being,

we wait;

I see you there; in the darkness of dreams,

where everything runs black as ink; and time

fades into non-existence; ice cools the blood,

and the dithering of fire makes us a shade

we can abide in for a spell; while magic

takes its toll on us, and we become possessed,

Demons;

Unfit for sleep or dreams, unfit for

reality's consumption; maddened minds,

unhinged without a safety net, they are;

we are bled and bruised; without clear

divide between the daylight and the evening

tide.

Ill, embarked upon escape from her assailants,

captured and tortured; but unmistakenly free,

to use what will she may have at her disposal;

magic; the dark and hidden powers of the night,

She takes the blood, and pours it down the throats

of those who took her; never questioning her faith,

I stay the night; and we; twain make love

Within the sight of those who harmed us;

Turning out the lights when we have finished our fill,

and desire is struck young in our bellies,

Poison crawls beneath the skin; and factors

in our disillusioned minds, complete with sores

upon our palms and on our breasts;

We have conquered our fears, for our survival;

but at what cost?

You walk in fabric time; and I, unraveled by

the spells you've placed upon me, sew up this

hole between us; this rift in space, accompany

me through love's aesthetic embrace, until the

hour comes for our clear separation;

Then we will walk in distinct cells;

Come, unto the feast of our ascension;

where able bodied lovers lie, where the clear

blue sky descends; and doesn't cover, but lies

below; take me to the river of life; and we will

pass through, unhinged and our mouths full

of fire;

Take me to completion of the soul;

to the eternal realm, where gods

forbid their followers to tread;

Lead me into the holy shrine and there,

we'll drink the cup of the dead.

And we record ourselves; in youth's abandonment,

between the shades of ivy and of silk;

our house perched way up on the hill,

where we can see everything our hearts desire;

And I desire most your skin;

Pressed against my own, and suffering in sin;

the way we ought to have done so long ago,

wading through the mire of our belonging,

purchased on a dead star's breath; you take

me into your gaze, and open up your gown

leaving nothing to imagination.

I purchase you, at long last within this hour;

and take hold of your body and your mind;

devour all, as if it were a supper for a beast;

And I am that beast; in this dark hour.

When in this dark room; with no blinds to set

the light inward, I see your body, as the mind

turns night to glass; and you into the dreamer

in my midst; come clear; crystalline dreamer,

Where sky is black you can redeem my sins;

And fade yourself into the dissonant sun,

as it fades;

Come hither, into the darkness; and bind me

close to your flesh, let our desires bleed

into each other's hearts; and let the cavity

of deepest love's illusion, persuade me to go;

with you, into the night.

A spiritual high; a spiritual surrender, to the night;

and your dark magic, come to drown me under; the waves,

in the ocean where you stayed your hand; when I was

young; and didn't lift me up to the pinnacle of my

beauty; but stayed your hand, and watched corruption

sink into my veins;

Now I am withered, and frayed like old rope,

Test me out and find the section of your passion;

don't be afraid, I am decrepit here within my dead

and rotting flesh; there is no life left to sink

your teeth into; I am naked; bared before your eyes.

Dark winds sacrifice me to the unbegotten god;

the dead god that sings slowly his melancholic

madness; drink my blood, and unleash the power

of my soul; sink the teeth into my bones.

Say a prayer of magic before it is through;

let the herds know it is of you; and your

corrupting eye.

You come calling me, out of reach; and out of mind,

but you come in like a rushing of the sea,

washing over my body with a cold caress;

Every vacant eye catches you fawning over me;

and the peace that ensues; and the turmoil after,

what will be, in the end of all this ever after;

when my mind is set ablaze with your clever tricks,

and dirty lies;

There is no comfort in your love; only hell's pursuit;

even so; take me up into your skirt, and hold me close,

don't drop me; until the morning hour has come,

and we both will walk away;

Perhaps glancing over shoulders; but we will,

walk away;

Into another's arms.

Enslaved in mind to your form; subtle beauteous

creature; come to your coven's ritualistic window,

to see the sight of trouble that you bare;

and there you are; deep in the woods of my despair,

and at the edge of my longing; my passion,

Holding a candle in the wood;

Reason is driven out like a mad dog; howling at your

sacred moon; and my despair lengthens as it grows;

I am in need of your caresses and your care;

Plummet the dagger deeply into me.

Entwined and unforgiven for our sins;

the two-toned rise and fall of our desires,

making love was not required by the gods;

nor taking place in rites of sacrificial fire;

But we wore love like a ring;

And entered in the fire without our clothes,

and chased each other down the fiery hole;

to where we had been given a time ; two times

for our repentance;

Love locks us in our fate,

and we climb to escape;

we feast upon each other's

bruised flesh,

Desire bleeding out our wounds.

The full moon is rising; and in her watch,

she suffers me my love, and my desire's edge

what I've wanted, since the whole of this began;

my season's end, and in apparent youth obtained

the small sliver of serenity on a silver plate,

Past tense participants;

The ugly truth that lies at the center of death's

perception, the dismal failure of my passion's

fury; the bleeding out of my heart.

Could love abide in this wasted filthy mire;

where seasons and vacuums claim the withered dead;

my longing, my love; we need not travel,

we cannot; while this persists, and so it shall

be the biting off of luxury and a bit of pain;

Reduced to a small wash on spin cycle.

Without a proper burial, do you; can we, complete his fate;

and will it be adequate for lightening his little star,

to face south, turn two notches and explore the early

signs of his decay; don't tell me there's nothing;

We can do. Nothing that can be said;

His breath still lingers on my tongue,

and when he would have spoken, it would be

such perfect little words;

But no; now he's buried in the yard;

buried through and through; it's through,

God or the Devil or both.

Have had their fun.

And now it's a ways til morning,

where I hold my hat up high,

to block the sun; and drink

my shots of whiskey,

and remember him,

in his own boots.

The long walk; through heaven's gate and beyond,

to where the wind washes clean the tears of the chosen;

and as a farewell cry, you can hear them;

rioting among the streets of sinners;

hastening the deaths of those who caused them harm,

Heaven is a place for retribution,

not the peaceful serenity of children's tales;

War;

And when each completed brick of the houses of the earth

has been laid barren to ash and dust

Then the children of heaven may lay to rest

their little ones.

The lost ones die; as if there's no remainder of

their suffering, they disappear; with no protection,

no ensemble of truth and righteousness to guard them,

They die;

Without a forgiving home to take them under and

complete the process of their ascension; they are

Lost.

What little world would skip a beat to drown

them in its pools; and what small worlds would

want to suffer them when only the contrariness

of their voices can be heard; to bear them up;

and bleed for them; what noxious lives they live;

Toxic lives they live;

So surround them in the hollow and set fire,

the flames produce an incense for the living;

dead men

Dead men.

Your sweet song, burning in my mind; the way

only a woman's mind can burn;

And you left me in a state of disrepair,

where all my longings linger on thin air;

and the desperate climb into a steady state,

fails;

You are poison in my lungs; a toxic oxygen,

draining out my life with your illusions

of a life, where we can make love beneath

the summer stars;

Collusion with the devil; and his mind,

walking backwards through time to change

our fates; and I seize the moment of your

life when you were incomplete, and begging

me for the length of my coupling to you;

It is risen, it has raised the bed; it is

night, and we're complete within each

other's hands.

With each breath inducing your perfect form,

within the mind; a subtle and slight reduction

in the madness of my mind; it has an edge,

a boundary you must cross; before complete

surrender to insanity;

While you walk, I watch;

And as if the cock had crowed, I wake up

from this dream of my denied substance;

and sever all relations to the breath of wind,

It is denial of your form that keeps me sane;

yet you slip through the borders; ever walking

the fine lines made; to keep me on the edge,

of waking and sleeping;

You are my waking dream.

Within your body's breath; within the containment

of your self, purpose lies to reason's cause,

and the moment has not yet passed where we abide

within each other's arms; so perfect a moment,

it will be when it transpires;

And you, in youth's attire;

Slave over memory and reminiscence; the subtle form

of mind's enclosing space; I want to free you

from your worries; for a momentary glimmer of

reproductive course, as if to glance upon your

beauty through the lenses of my own sculpted

form of you;

You break the glass;

And I shed blood.

I burn; within my mind, I burn;

and this consumption is the pressure

of a thousand miles walking without your hand in mine,

the death of a child; a subdued isolation of the core;

resting in a beautiful wood; without the need for

anyone else; but you;

My mind is fixated on your form;

And anything I can do, any call I can make into the wild;

becomes another whisper in the dark room;

No one can hear me.

And when it's through; when the completion of my madness

settles out; and the winds change, and the sky clears;

you are gone; but the essence of your voice within my mind,

remains still.

We speak in colored pairings of fire; rings

speak with magic in their midst, the contemplation

of our youth's reprisal; a dormant, distant dream;

What sinks into the bottom of the well does not rise,

and we sink ourselves into the well; as we

deride the chains of faith, but it's of no consequence;

Faith is a virtue for the delusional;

So we well our minds to the coming of the messiah,

and place our substance in each other's gaze,

we drink the blood and eat the body; in good faith;

We wait out the storm in the cellar.

We have both witnessed the retirement of the ages;

when ball strikes glass and everything is shattered;

And into dewdrops the world becomes water,

into ourselves; we shed our tears upon the plane;

And the echo of your voice begins to fade;

the rhythm of your heartbeat lost from hearing,

a delicate press of blood and fire burning

in my mind as you are lost from me,

Tears burn a well within me; and I drink;

The power of forgotten spaces, and crimson baths

of blood; the desolate parts, remembered; the dying

and the salt of worries that it will not ever end.

I'm burning up, and the flames won't reach your lips;

the kiss goes unadorned upon your lips; in this

denial of the flesh, this perfect harmony of

lifelessness; pursued.

The crown of glory, placed upon our heads;

Its simple song, played out upon the pages

of unread volumes of poetic prose; dusty volumes

kept within the corners of my mind's edges,

placed there upon the playing of our symphony;

And to retire, would be a blasphemy;

So I play; the lecture of our ill-informed

destiny; depraved, starved, ill-begotten

existence; I play to the tune of your

beautiful look; dressed up in your perfect

gown, dressed for bed upon my soul's enclosure.

The lifeless fury, the dread I had inherited

from you; your moist lips touched snow, and painted

it red as blood. My cavern feeds upon your dead;

they enter here, unmarked and unwanted;

and, as if to fire for the leaf; we burn,

Burn in ecstasy and grief;

The pain; rumbles on the skin, down collapsing

tunnels; we run until the legs wear thin;

and desire burns within our lengthy frames,

set the sun upon our skin, and watch us

burn.

And into the night, we fade as dying stars;

until the feast is ended and we become

Black Death.

The soul's company, within these prison bars;

is all I really desire, and the edge of a blade;

pressed against my flesh.

What's worse than death; is this divide,

against our close encounters; flesh meets

flesh, but the soul survives; and sings,

And when youth ends; and the hush of age'

begins to overwhelm the mind, and all the games

we played succumb to silence in the ears,

Deaf gravity collapses stars;

And to this death, we are drawn; into the

bleeding pool's edge; drawn in;

Drowning, without a flame to burn.

The untitled draw of your skin against mine,

the match we made before heaven rained on earth;

before the fires set in, and recovery was not a part,

before the claim;

And when our voice is raised;

Between the standing stars; within the flooded sky;

there is a hope that we'll lie separate in the dark,

bleeding within the mind; and hearing each other's

voices, crystal clear; as though you and I were both

here, drowning in the light.

While in this deconstructive frame of mind;

I bleed into you; into your lungs and hold

my breath inside, to feel the beating of your

breast; against your chest I lay my head

And I swell; as though to burst,

Weary eyes lay on you; tired and restless eyes,

they sink into your flesh, under the skin;

and the soul sings; it is the merriment of

everything that's passed; the beautiful

attainment of ecstasy, and in you I lie;

Full of life.

The draw of your voice, as I suffer; without

someone to call to in the night, when the lights

dim and reason flees the mind; you give me the

purchase I require, to stay the night; stay

Please don't;

Leave me hanging in the darkness, in the midst

of my emotion; bleeding.

Come and let us build a fire in the middle

of the room; let the house burn, slowly;

and fade to dust and ash; let the screams

of thousands be drowned out in our denial,

Turn the cheek the other way, ignore the world

and its problems; stay;

And let the cool, crisp air of love devour us.

A dip into the subconscious mind; what bubbles

up when speech begins its sort, the bleeding frenzy

of consciousness contains its own remainder;

And you are her, in light of a new shadow;

Bleeding out through my distilled horizon,

edging at the beachside; blossoming into

cacaphonic silhouettes in the clouds;

You raise to my attention every detail;

your form, your skin; perfect and crystalline,

and I would shatter you, if I could but

touch;

But you are out of reach and far from me.

The title is frozen; there is no more

extracting pain and suffering from sin;

the blood is thick and dry; and comfort

comes in small spaces with eyes closed,

The devil regains his glory;

And when my eyes are shut; I see you,

perfect and wide-eyed, before me;

candid and composed; and here I

bless my god; here it is I find

my faith in God;

Within your lips, and in your touch;

your composure; certainty of form;

I am completed in your arms.

Our flaws are tied, within my breast; I sing

and this new song, of apparent mis-dealt

hand, takes the form of a lover's quarrel;

It bites, and stings; but has the youthful

taste of forms and fits quite nicely on

the finger; and its taste lingers, sweetly

So I will not devour you whole;

I'll sink my teeth in slowly as you repair

and bleed you out, just enough to keep you

Whole.

It is a gnawing at my soul;

a bleeding out of everything I own,

all my body's blood extracted;

I cannot contain the grief of your escape,

I will set you in chains.

Since the first touch of your skin,

I've been entombed; separated from your

existence, by wires and mesh of circuitry;

Our constellation has exploded;

and set the universe in flames,

And therein lies my grief, and my pain;

you are departed; and not mine;

separated through space and time to be

without each other.

Pain passes, and is gone; and a new strange

feeling forms; HUNGER, like I've not known,

it drains away the skin and leaves a blank

page, a drop of ink will satisfy.

I will not bend for this insatiable desire;

it will haunt me in my dreams and in my

waking hours; to purge would leave me whole,

and to seduce you into taking hold of me,

Three minutes at the door, and I will usher

you in; from there; everything turns black

and dead, I have warned you if you'd listened

so don't be shy; take off your clothes,

And I will bite.

The season of our engagement, wrapped in stars;

another night, embracing each other with the

moonlight wrapping us like silk; it's scenic,

and it's over in a moment of blood;

The needle pricks, and all the world

Turns upside down, and sinks; in bed, we are

apart and spread; the down is shed, and here

we come undone; the mind frays and the splices

of our ecstasy are torn;

Weeping like to mourn, we pray;

to some unseen gods, make like

maddened children in the dark

for any help at all; but it

evades us; controls us; defines us;

Heaven is just an escape we haven't found.

The clear complexion of the sky; as the night shines;

and every facet of your face lights up perfectly,

you are my star, and the salvation I had hoped to see;

everything about you is right, and clear within the night.

Hope's footprint, stamped out;

And this is my desire; to find you once more,

within this well of darkness, to find your form;

and say to it, sing to it of its perfection;

And let God capture all my words as His;

Be to me my muse; and I will fit you in a bottle,

full of words; extracted from my mind's view of you,

to dose the drinkers; to give them substance,

they cannot see you, the way I see your perfection;

Give them water, for their thirst.

### Untitled

It is a gnawing at my soul;

a bleeding out of everything I own,

all my body's blood extracted;

I cannot contain the grief of your escape,

I will set you in chains.

Since the first touch of your skin,

I've been entombed; separated from your

existence, by wires and mesh of cicuitry;

Our constellation has exploded;

and set the universe in flames,

And therein lies my grief, and my pain;

you are departed; and not mine;

separated through space and time to be

without each other.

Never had I the nerve, to deconstruct your world;

and so I'd sometimes break and fracture your

constructive lies; I've lived so many thousand

years it seems, sometimes; while you are letting

cannonballs fly; at night when no one's watching

them, but the destruction never ends;

You are my soul's reaper,

take what you pay for;

get what you have given;

send in the fury,

and the fray;

Death toll rises, you're wanting us to greet

tomorrow's curve; in density of reason while the

state;

He sees his reason, buckles in and burns.

When I had faced the totality of depression's

sink; had walked the pages draped in fire,

and in the schism of my mind; sunk rapidly,

To where beauty fades from view and all the

world is shaped in darkness and in decay;

When I had fed on blood to reduce my disease,

let candles lit swallow me in their flame;

and lit my own to raise the structure of

the dead, without projective voice;

I claimed my fault in listening to demons;

and to saints; between my ears; the voices

of the damned; the saved it isn't reason

that drove me into you; it was the grave.

When nothing has passed except the moment

of our conception; when all things stay untouched;

and keep the silence in, I would call out to you,

take you in my hands and show you how good it feels

to be alive; in love,

But there's no want here for animated souls;

just the death of the hour in concrete submission;

heeding the voice of the masters; and giving alms,

we wash our sins clean in the anticipation of

an afterlife that likely won't exist; we spend

our time in fear; and pain, and misery;

Let all be rejected works of art.

It is sublime resuscitation, your words; enter

into the mind's deep hold; and grasp my sliver

of a soul; piece together my dreams; and I will

enter into yours, with the deep kiss of life

We will resolve this madness;

And we will enter into the shade of the mire,

untouched and unhaunted; to speak in dreams,

of several species of repentant forms; like

the loch-ness' sting as it is healed;

Formulate the distance of our minds,

and crack the code of our survival,

speak in patterns of blood; dropped

deliciously upon the crystal cave floor;

and we will bring our bath into a boil;

And sever off our cadence of the dark.

This is where the madness steeps, while you

in flowing garments walk on air; I see you

even as I know the weight is crushing in,

as if you were an angel; carried through the

dark by heaven's trace embodiment; I see you

and I wail our disconnect;

Short lived fantasies contain my reason's

mind, and an unclaimed vision of our love's

reactive skin; pulled down over both our eyes

while we fulfill our sensual desires;

Come clean, and tell me what you are; some

demon from the darkness told to pull me under;

And I would go; your willing slave,

If it were so; I'd succumb; this body is

too weak to contain my madness; my swelling

heart and beating frame collude; with you.

Within this ever-increasing blindness; I become

unstable and aesthetically deprived of your

beauty; false scares and devout attention to

your details, offers nothing I have sought so

hard to please within me;

The bleeding eyes drip; and fantasy runs wild,

the soul collects only drips of your skin;

and when the crow caws in the night, and

your blood runs thick within my veins;

I see you in the semblance of a goddess;

And there; beneath bedsheets, and naked;

I perch upon this madness and drink you in,

subdued by my deepest desire.

The depths and fullness of the moon, as it whispers

the dark etchings of our love; in shades of grey;

what matters, and what becomes of our dirty secret;

withers as the sky completes her course, and

drops her shadow underneath the earth;

False promises, and faith instilled;

Set the season for retrieval of this faith,

resurrect the finer points of loss & betrayal;

come hither, into scratching feverous rebirth;

to where the demons lie.

Break free from our prison; and fly.

Common complacency, and the drift to aesthetic

difference, your form comes and fades again;

complete withdrawal kills my only taste of

freedom's bell; the drunken realm of ecstasy

and purging of my reason,

I drink to you, and to our love;

And separate myself from this denial,

close the doors to empathy and pain;

resist the reason's whine as it complains;

Post-trauma, distracted sense; escapes me

to our so-called innocent submissive hold,

and I watch as the walls close; and dust

my feet on dreams,

Sever the production of our faith.

The street sings our surreal song, dampened

by the light rain; it cools off the flame

of my insanity; and singles out your hair,

one by one I count them; even the stray ones,

You wield my voice when I'm not here to speak;

And I listen to your words; as if my own,

speak to me; speak to me.

Morning coalesces with my depression, and I

leave my own ignition for the flame's report,

You sink into your own forgotten tales,

adrift in silence; adrift in thought; and

madness of your own mind. So I come,

between the pages of your story book I press;

myself against you; and kiss.

Inversion of the mind, as it's rolling through

ideas beyond comprehension; and we'll take turns,

you and I; in the backseat of your daddy's car;

we'll ride; and writhe in ecstasy's forsworn

benediction;

Call me concrete; call me real.

And as our respite from madness fades into the black,

we'll pick up strangers and fantasize they are our

other; of each other's form; and you will find forgiveness

in the arms of your dead husband, when he dies;

But I won't stand for it; I won't last

The crawling on all fours, for an incomplete smile;

I'll suffer and bend until I snap.

Selection of a lover; past tense brother, and

when the feast of flesh combines our sanctity

with youth's desirous face; we blush, and see

serenity in full bloom, the closet closes

and the dust begins to settle upon dry ground;

Do you see the stars outside the window?

They are barred.

Between us and them, there lies the distance

of our worlds; the two can't complete their

course and so, neither can we reach out and touch

each other's soul; there is restraint, there is

a mask of distance even should we push ourselves

inside one another's skin; there is a distance

and a closeness we can feel; enough to push

desire's blade deep into our skin, and cut out

every instance of our disconnected lives;

But this love's illusion is a mask;

a spell broken and shattered by reason.

Your skinny hands and long fingers,

the separation of the skin;

Your legs, in perfect form;

I keep wanting to touch you;

but there is a distance, and a lack of faith,

there is the reality of conception;

It doesn't hold back the madness.

And I would cradle you, in my arms;

and contemplate our souls' redemption

in this place, within my mind; where to

I travel in the deeper parts of insanity;

I could collect each drop of your perspiration,

and bottle it up for the day you weren't near;

so I could smell your scent and wander the mind's

far reaches of fantasy; collude with my depressive

sting to bring you back from the dead;

And I would drop blood into magic fires to hear your voice.

The rough tones of your absence, as it fades

into the dark; where I can't hear but echoes

of your laughter, and when the howling comes

to overshadow you, I drop my guard and let

pretend they are your calls;

The shadow, it fades into recursive steps;

and lights the new becoming of your form,

foot in step, and swing; reborn mutation;

A Doppelganger;

To bleed my soul of its impurities, and be

laid bare before this demon's eyes; you

are the cause of my delight within this

sinful stain of being;

Remember, when the last fall; and to our

darkened corners we were laid to rest;

in pieces of our own, as separate bodies;

laid bare;

Ripped and torn apart.

In absolute regret for your departure;

dying within the tones of your unspoken voice,

it sings; with the disharmony of our separation,

with the dissonance of our obstructed view;

The voice rings clearer than its counterpart;

And howling winds destroy the memory of your skin,

deflect the beauty of your form and fracture

every facet of your being; within is just a broken

semblance of your shape; to be adored and worshipped

As if a sentimental fracture of our love.

The dissonant remainder of your form, a pure

aesthetic shape, born of fire and glass; a crystalline

perfection for my anointed eyes to traverse;

the dying eyes of this dead sun, burned up in flames;

So cold; this shapelessness of form,

And you go on; loving what couldn't keep you warm;

where I should be, when the perfect temperature holds;

is in your arms; unshaded by this satanic voice

which holds me, arrested and at your whim;

Purging all the sanctity of the season;

I dip into your voice; into the calm sea,

and surrender my hopes for just a simple taste

Of what you used to be.

You have been replaced, by the sweet caresses

of a girl I haven't met; within my mind's edges

where the demons feed; And I can't stifle the

smile.

Tender hands, uncorrupted by age or self-discovery;

As though they've beaten winter's edge and taken

sips from youth's entitled vine; her blood is

thick with life, and her form as a forgotten

angel; left to dance destruction in my world;

Love is an intoxicating mess;

And though I smile, I also bleed; and you can't

save me this time; your words mean nothing.

The death of your illusory projection,

and my hollowed mind; set still with the flame

of her inscription; pointed still frames of light;

Your institutionalized state, as a reminder;

of the fracture you have left within my psyche,

cold complexion as your face registers death;

And while you surrender to dissonance; I soar;

Her flame burns like the sun, and I soar high;

drinking every drop of pure intoxication,

sinking in my teeth as she bares her naked skin;

And I dream the last dream I will dream.

Err in the voice you have; it isn't unique,

it is a shade of synthesis with other symptoms;

and the pitch collapses given time; degrades

You are not the girl I gave into;

Leave judgement for the speechless; and catastrophy

to the blind; you are not the girl.

So it is spoken; and so it shall begin; the calm

of the ocean, and the harmony of waves upon the skin;

each particle of dust shall speak your name as dead.

We watch as you evaporate into the mire's fog;

and place a marker as your grave, and dig up earth;

there, beneath the ashes of your body; there within

the earth. A sunset funeral; and we play your favorite

song;

Nobody comes.

But we mourn you.

And when the rites are finished; and you are resting

in your cloud up in the heavens, we pray to you; complete

our love with flesh and fire; distill us in pure water,

And drain it to the last drop.

The words twist; and turn inside my mouth,

I am a serpent and my name is Fire; damned

beast, sentenced to die and be resurrected

in the flames.

Will you be my torment, my non-salvation?

Open up your skirt, woman; show me who you

really are; beneath these deceptive skins,

Or shall I pray with you; beneath the tree of life?

Let the flames decide.

She is lost to me.

And everything I said to you are lies;

the sweet corruption of my speech,

infused with bitter tastes;

You drink.

Each droplet burns; but it goes down,

and you accept the fate that is poured out;

And I accept your hand, placed against me,

this bed of trust; with nails and screws

to hold you down. You are in my hands;

and in my company; until death.

Your death will mark a covenant's resolution;

and once it is complete, I will be chained

to you forever, in sickness and in health.

She has altered her perception of the world;

and in the space divide she holds a seance,

asking the gods to imbue her with good intention;

She stays her hand at the implication of her desire;

And rests; not knowing what will come of her,

she undresses, lets down her guard and takes

the will of God into her bed;

The rest is a mystery of faith; untold reflection

echoed in her graces; the way she moves, and her

rendition of purgatory's flames;

When all the walls begin to share; she dances,

and as her form moves through the stage, the

audience applauds, but is it for her good intention;

Or is it for her beautiful mistakes?

You complicate me; disrupt my way of being,

and with your eyes, perceive through dim reflection,

the complications of your own distorted self;

You walk the line I had no care for possession of,

the quarantine of youth's disheveled state;

where the body can leave the mind and writhe

in ecstasy; sex & drugs.

Religion;

Offers us a mandate for our life,

I refuse to accept the solid truth

of sacrifice; death and God;

sin is just a quiet mistake made by fools;

MUSE:

Apparition in the dark,'

the science of magic;

a fairy tale;

Something aesthetically sound.

Through the chaos in my head, I see a clear path;

as if this bright light had always been there,

not to guide; but to be drawn into, yet here I flounder

in the depths of possession, milking my way through

life's encounters; one bad trip after another,

And though I see; I fail to grasp the shoulder

of my redemption; fail to comprehend meaning;

But there is hope, I feel; that whatever way I should

turn there is a presence; a consciousness deeper

than the earth can tell; and meaning is derived

from this God.

Her season has come, to bloom; and in this

foul moon and rhythm of the sea, the feast

of fire washes me clean; so I will go to

the dead pool and wait for her;

Here within the waters, I will not shed any

tears; only blood, I'll cut myself once;

and watch the swimming red leak;

And wait for her in the dead pool, to come to me;

And she won't ask me questions, she won't tell

any lies; she'll come dancing as she's drawn to me;

come in by my side, and we'll wait out the long

night, together; dreaming with a smile.

The time won't flow; and won't subside; anxiety's

performing art, the discord in my head; breaks

the smooth transition from a moment to its neighbor,

and the mute button won't carry out its function;

Always residing in memory, your kiss; even with

lips undecidedly forsworn to another; and the pleading

beating of our hearts, coalesces and transforms

into another night left out in the cold;

Your gaze is apparent on my skin; it leaves a mark,

and briefly a caress; the mark stays but the feelings

fade, as though attachment weren't the phantom;

and the operatic sting of foreplay couldn't reach

far enough to bring you into me;

The lonely drips of water in the tub.

When we were tied to fenceposts; in the early

morning breeze, I still remember your face;

when we broke free, and captured every passion's

whim like fantasy; and in our minds we bled;

Two summer nights,

With the sun rolled down, and every man asleep;

the cadence of our dancing fired incompletely,

and there's a gun in your pocket; and a fire

in the pit, waiting for our dead bodies; but we

danced the night through, and drank to stumbling,

Fools of the evening cloak.

You entertain the ghost of our past history;

and I entertain you, with hopeless dreams,

fantasy made flesh in the surreal reaches

of the mind; we ride the waves of this false

echo; with reprise,

And stay our hands for fear of absolute;

Decision to commit, and live like queens,

to drink the blood of each other's first

born child; and I would sit on dreams,

surrender hopes and fears but for a momentary

glimpse of passion; and you would unloose

yourself from the bondage of reality;

As it ties you to the rock of earth's consumption.

Hours go by, and you lie; waiting at the front door,

for some defined line of symmetry to let you in;

and though I would; I can't.

The sentiment is closed, and not constructed

for our brief exposure to the clouds; I will

come out to you, and we can breathe the air;

But the door stays shut;

And half exposed to daylight; through bare windows;

leading into lines of the horizon, there I'll

capture you; and seize your words like liquid

In a bottle.

The air is clear; and what we will contain within

our breath is undecided, a two-toned mess of

smoke and blood, a cough like syrup in the lungs;

And when I feel your breasts pressed against my chest;

then I remember all the innocent speeches we gave,

when the walls were concrete; and we couldn't fade

into one another's room; for the night, for the

evening tide to swarm around us;

The moon, in our eyes; lights from the stars,

dappling our minds; and the clear, crisp breeze

as it were autumn for the night;

But everything fades, and into darkness you arive;

I cannot see you any longer; your face becomes

a mystery to me; and I starve for your breath,

purchase this night again but it isn't the same,

As love once, and only once contains; its purity.

Tie my hands; I want you to take me under,

to where the river runs, to where the flow

of blood returns into the earth; play me

a sad song, and never turn your back; as I

decay; stay, close to me so I can feel your

breath;

Against my skin, upon my neck;

And rise; take me over the banner's flight;

we'll fly, to soothe the beast within,

and then we'll crash; upon the bed once

we have drank the poison wine;

Drink the poison wine, with me;

We'll see death. Together,

in a new light.

Take me from my chains; and drag me under,

the way you move; I want to hold you down,

and we can bear each other into the grave;

corrupt one another;

Each hand tying the other's fate,

Instilling secrets we haven't told another;

my bedpost will bear witness and a testimony

to our estate; we'll shadow each other's

closeness as we consume;

Our wretched state of passion plays,

and continues its discourse with the stars,

they shie brightly, only because they must;

For in this house there is no heaven's mist;

to breach the distance between us and

salvation's mask; it is a trumpet call,

and I watch as you seduce me into the night.

I crave your company, I crave the howling

of our voices beneath the still night sky;

and the imprint on the mind, as footprints

traced in fire; collect with me the stars;

Reconcile ourselves as benefactors of the night;

Obtrusive woman; dance the night in flames,

get out of my head; and sting another

incoherent mind; my own mistake was your

addiction; the callous bits of jealousy perceived;

the whore's attentions and her every need;

Each line the same;

Fucked, herself; and fucked me over;

just the same.

The restless hours of my recollection;

of your perfect form, your face; your

breasts pressed against my body;

Each moment of this surge in my memory;

a perfect hollow sound to echo out the

calling of the dead, and I recall

The kiss which never came.

Each minor disruption to our thoughts,

when persuasion of the heart has folded in;

and company contains the breath of sin;

Locked embodiment of youth's precious substance;

Sexual desire and the hunger for your blood,

pulsing through and near to me; a present

and momentary hold on me; through flooded lips;

enclosed within your kiss,

My purchase on your skin;

When mourning passes, and I can't complete

the circle of our faith; and drown myself

in words, words, words...

I will recollect this dream of love.

Dressed in white; like everyone around you,

an army of ghosts heading for the resurrection

and deliverance of the soul; I feed you

chocolate covered cherries and wine;

Wedding feast of the divine;

And give you my simple ring.

And the bells toll; for night has come,

and you are dressed in black; for death's

ceremony; and we sing haunted love songs,

and we rest in one another's arms; swollen

with desire, swollen with unrequited love.

The entrapment of my body; lost in the confines

of a steady rhythmic heart and solid bones mixed

with fire; neurons sewing spells within the flesh's

folds, painting my anxiety black; weaving fire

and flame through my head; and through everything

I had left to blame myself for;

It was a last straw; a temple of ice;

and each thick snow remained, completely fallen

on the skin; each new snow contained more poison

to set me ill at ease.

You pour your tears into my throat;

give me the sustenance I've dreamed of;

post your thoughts into my veins,

remain inside me

And I want to hold you in; and to contain you;

Every drop of your essence; washed inside me,

wet in my blood; for pulsing your being

But I slit my throat,

because I can't keep you inside;

there's too much pain of loss;

and of regret. I yearn for more

than thoughtful memories of you;

It is not your blood; but your body

that I would have; not your essence,

but your form, beneath me; in the night.

The dust and lies settle, and you resurface with

the pain of our last moment; two incompenent faces;

from the dark, coming from the pool's edge,

To scrape away the sins of the world in a bucket;

And pass complete the residue of their lies,

their high remarks ; their enchanted observations

of their own youth's decay; to speed into the grave

and sing the rise of their own falling; and to say,

When eyes succumb to reality's perceptive show,

and there is nothing left of magic; or of love,

we'll cradle each other; in an empty room and

sing each other into sleep; into death and smile,

For there is nothing which can chain us down;

not love, and not irrational madness of faith.

That world in which we lived, is gone;

and the defining of our page within the history;

of fate's journal, has been erased; we never were,

An old tale of dreams and wishful thinking,

Yet the power of your eyes, and the hold

of your skin pressed hard against my own;

the dealings of demons, and desire;

Flesh breeds death;

And so I hold you in the hands of my soul;

and punish myself for this burning within,

dress myself for our burial; two sheets

of cotton cloth with nothing underneath;

Dress you in the memory, my dear.

The whispers of your magic; have seized my mind,

my maddened mind; and complications of birth,

the slipping of control beneath a world; come

crashing down; and if I could breath, I would say:

"Holy Mary, Mother of God; Pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death."

But it's a quick solution to a torn skin; and I see

the razors coming; And can feel the steady rise of ink;

preparing for the drain; I will write descriptions

on their backs; and flood their eyes with water and

desires; nothing will end well; not here, not forever.

Alone.

Prayer and seduction; the laying down of arms;

an editorial feasting upon my manuscripts,

the desert of alarms; where dust falls like rain,

and I can't count the dead, they are too numerous;

And when the bleach fills our cavities;

none will mourn us; as we perish or somehow

persist; lingering through the fate of our

undeath, humanity lies closer to us in the end;

Rise up, love; and cheers, to new momentum;

as we drink the clear waters of our time;

and pass unwholly forgotten into rhyme

and space provides new prisons to chain us

to the earth.

The torch in reverence descending; to the

departing platform where the hollows; illuminated

by the light of our ascending coil; our unfiltered

faith; breasts and palms upward toward the sky;

The rhythm of beating transfixed, and filled with

flies; you are my diamond; and I your numb hole,

And the blockage that began as a living testimony,

was short lived; a sentence wetted with fire;

Do you complain that the only ever after;

comes in the shape of a dragon, that fire

contains the breath of our future and that the dog

remains unpunished for her crimes; can you contain

your illusory persuasion over me; come now,

Let us talk and let us write our wills.

The tale twists; and in its full degree,

contains a part of my soul; slithering

and degraded before the hour of its becoming;

A distant plea, and a rotting smell;

To burn the ice will not entitle me to tell,

how cold it is at the bottom; and the flames

only can melt so much; I wash myself in the molten

parts of it; bathe within this dew;

And slave, for fingers which haven't touched you.

For time, and a half; I drink the waters of my

mind; and sink my teeth in madness; for a time;

And it's forgiven me, these long nights spent

wailing have been heard; as if the mist of earth

has been devoured; and my small claim; my debris,

I spend it all on poetry.

And into bed; into the strong pill;

into time when lovers can fulfill their wants;

And there, between the shade of trees, we can relax;

for a moment's passage; before the storm blows,

it will blow for me tonight; I have dreamed it,

it will blow violently tonight; and when the dust

settles; we'll see rain, and thunder; lightning,

After the storm will be no more after than before;

The dead will rise, triumphant over death;

while the rest of us, our delicate lives will rest,

in the center of the rose; dangling on the wind;

and alone; without warning they may be taken;

destroyed; plucked up and devoured;

So entertain my life with one last memory of love.

The turn of what will come of us, within fate's hand;

and the smile of God within our grasp, we're chained

to this forever; what fortune brings us; to the table

of our eating, we sit and wait, and dine;

The fast begins when we've forsaken all;

and let God slip from our fingers, and then

we blow the candles out and wait;

Another year gone unrecalled, another bite of reason;

and our resolve weakens, as we wait for the main course;

Dreams built on avalanching skins and hopeless romance,

on the emptiness of youth's dreams unfulfilled;

blow out the candles, and leave us in the dark;

to where the dreams lie unfulfilled as fantasy;

And reason's calling washes out the darkness.

Fallen into death, with the whole world watching;

purged from the sentence of living with our

disconnected lifestyle ; we roam the streets;

unwanted love, disharmonic paradise; the owl

She calls out the names of the dead;

Into the night's sky, and I am among them;

it's no longer a light matter to jest and judge;

once you believe; once you taste the madness

dripping down your face; So purge, and find

your restitution with the dead;

And we will see what bitter ends will meet.

The burg has failed to hide myself from you;

to see the tip; and to see under me,

Exposed to your prying eyes;

And when the will of your intrepid heart;

shines, like the brightness of the sun;

it bares my flesh; for your exposure,

What will come of this; and where will

we be ten thousand years from now;

I can't complain that you've cut the

cords and set me loose; and I won't blink

as your eyes cover every inch of me;

But here; in the shadow of my mind,

where all thoughts wander and speak

of genocide and terrors of the night;

The dark night; it places fear upon my heart.

With our combined defense, the need should arise

should it fly and scrape the sun; and when my body's

finished beating out the blood; I'll take your cloak

and what you wear beneath the skin; dampen it with

the phrase I've mentioned in passing to you;

Small magic and earthy transplants,

Give me your heart; you've lost your way to communicate;

and give me your blood, it's best we drown the demons,

wash the sins away; it is the blood sacrifice;

Dampen it with the incantations of a slave;

and bow to the new blood; and his dissonance of self;

The newly annointed; who claims to have innocent eyes.

The city under the hill; the city where we

will meet in the afterlife, and you will be

my perfect adornment on my hand; the one who

makes me shine; and within our world,

Our perfect place;

I'll find you every piece of me I can find;

and the ebb and the tide; we'll flow back

into the sea; from the city under the hill,

we'll seek our destiny; and there'll be no

more tears; just free flow expression of

youth's attire;

Bring me your hand; and I will place my finger

in the ring of your obsession; I will plant

my face upon your mouth, and take my leave

of you; you'll follow me; into the sea;

Into the sea;

Where the two of us belong.

We'll burn;

In this forgotten house up on the hill; we'll burn;

and all the crumbling after of our bodies, to the mire;

we'll lie in sheets of ash, unmoving remnants of

love's hereafter; tested and found unworthy,

And you, I'll covet to the end of time;

We'll burn;

And when the dying flame subsides, and we both linger

on the edge of death; I will look at you, and see your

melting flesh, and think; if it hadn't been enough

To hold you in a dream's pure perfection;

Why did it come, to this; my lover?

Her house; her rules. And if they're bad,

you must take the door; or face the sting

of her consequence; and when the rush of

blood enters in your veins; when adrenaline

rises; and you see her insanity corrupt,

Run; there is no escape; but run,

She will chase you down through the ends

of time; and will find you.

Her hunt.

The death, within my womb; this self-descovered

plaything; to be unloosed, Satan's scourge and

the body of the cursed; I unlock my mind, let loose;

And reveal to you the sickness of my lungs;

I'll converse for this short time with you; as dreamers

dream, we'll bleed the morning through and shout

triumphant in our wailing,

The evening after, we'll wash away our sins

in the blood of this goat-god's fury; strike

death and pain in the bodies of our enemies;

Wash it down with a vial of each other's essence;

the pure blood of sainted killers; the death of

our instruction; the holy vial, and pain will

linger on; as fantasy reminds us nothing is real

except the course of blood we are about to partake in;

And when the evening passes into deep, black night;

I'll swallow you; I'll consume you in a bed of desire.

The misfit's belief; in gods other than The One;

and a sacred offering, instilled upon the wind;

grant me that which I may give; to save my soul,

And for your offering; a peace,

That which was; that which I may consume,

in the dead of night, when all humanity sleeps;

Bare me,

And breath your life into my own;

Let the chaos of the sun bear my witness;

and the dawn of tomorrow break when it is done,

Let the right hand fall; and the left choose.

The distance of my confession; held out for the

grace of His obsession; dancer in the dark, with

wandering gaze, she stops to smell the flowers;

and gets upset when the world doesn't cooperate;

It is a scentless night beneath the full moon;

And with a wish; she occupies both time,

and space; delicious drops of dew like honey,

in her mouth; she sings.

And when the sages cover her with ash;

and bury her body, she keeps containment

at bay; she is resurrected by her Lord;

And then the sun spares her; and gods

adorn her as a queen; she comes into the garden,

as they weep; splits the silence of her body;

and troubles their minds, they would not believe;

Mary has been reborn; the virgin mother;

Come to confiscate the sword of truth.

Reproduction, at a cost; and the air is filled

with magic and conspiracy; and truth,

The hopeful cast a stone upon the girl;

And she sinks; deep into the mire of her youth,

baring all her body for prescription of her form;

her blood; infused with the caricature of life's

blessing; a cursed name; a blessed outlook

on her future pain; the suffering of the insane.

She walks naked through the street;

and none will ask her who she is;

They all know her name,

And in the dark; none will touch her,

because she is instilled with dark magic;

and she distributes her fate, on those who come

to wish her glory; to those who it is written of;

And between the sheets of lust, she will proclaim,

her death's sentence.

"Nothing," says the night;

And the daytime desists.

When leaves are cool, in the chill night breeze;

and there's a flood of fever burning through

the starlight; whatever taste you give me,

I will beg for more; so you drip wet, and cleave

to me; that I may take this long retort,

And give you pleasure,

to drink; that you may rise,

and speak; call upon the demons

of your dreams; and say,

How the west fall; to the eastern light;

how does the daylight conquer all, in the

earnest faith of stars; and how is it that

Satan's rise to power could not begin

descent until the end; what world is this,

where gods and men; perceive little of reality.

I drink the plain sight; and twist it,

with the knife of my affliction; hold me

under water; take my breath, and I will

sacrifice the beating of my blood.

To die for folded pride; infinity's resort;

the chief of trickery and transfused lies,

the unquestioned author of this vain

encyclopedia; the density of night's obtuse

gaze; the horn blow, the ash; the fire.

What once was lost, is found in the belly of a king;

and to his retainers, they once knew the plot

But now they lay in disillusioned beds; and speak

no evils of the king they wed;

Entrusted web; shared deceit, the freedom of babes

in the woods; covered by the protection of a howling

wolf; and he rises from the ashes of the dead,

To take them, into his bed.

The night is rough, my love; so settle in,

we'll drown ourselves in music; and wine,

and while we do; I'll show you what lies

under my clothes; it's not the curves of

flesh you hadn't known, not the pulse

of blood running through my veins;

It is the darkness you have not known;

The deep divide; the chasm in the night;

where in my sleep lies difficult to see,

the drowning bird inside of me, who burns

to be set free; listen, my dove;

Hear me as she speaks your name,

and wonder what connection she has made;

the depths of the cold chasm well contain;

Her frigid form.

The sound of the bell;

the wild, triumphant call; His Majesty,

Your Grace; and the small setting space

of the table; The Anti-Christ's coming;

His ownership of this earth; the becoming,

And in His haven, is a swarm of consorts,

ready to do His bidding; He has become

Lord of Lords, and King of Kings for a spell;

And in His right hand, He holds the key

to Heaven; and will make war; and all

the angels will awaken from their slumber;

The two sides will war;

And lay waste to the earth and its inhabitants;

it is coming. It is here.

The sin of our company; and my hand upon your head,

the twofold truth of our existence, denied by dreams'

accompaniment; I scream, and echo into your world;

where shifting shadows drown out the truth and cover

up with lies; you scream; and the paranormal rises;

What lies beneath the floorboards; and what bites,

as inconsistent truths arise; you'll see tonight;

The death of my reflection;

And in the mirror, is an absence of myself;

I exist; but only in dreams; here.

The rough patch of our birth; and my denied fate,

is coming out to haunt me; in this world there are

but two directions from our youth; and mine is

the path of the evil one; bent on hell; I cry

mercy in the night, but who will hear my call;

When the fright of destiny has conquered my mind;

Madness ensues; and the destructive forces linger

deep within; you cannot contain my mark; or my

desires;

Purge me.

Free from this disastrous doom; I echo my voice

through the wood; and sing an angel's song;

Rise up; woman, and take my hand, tonight we'll

shed our skins; we'll bleed as demons in the dark,

and take the final step; past corruption's blade,

and into life; the trees are nice.

It's in the night and we can speak as one;

with the sad inscription of our shadows

as spoken in the dark; we'll come to be

what will become of us; as pass as shadows,

as spoken in the dark;

The divide has conquered us; and we will

feel our fill of ecstasy, before the end;

Achieve our destiny as inscribed upon the sun;

and bleed our warning to those who come after,

for there is far fate entwined within our skins;

You drift in ways I drift, and see things that

I can see; and tonight we'll be infused with

Fire.

I've spoken the tears I shed for you;

in this swollen mind of mine, and repeated

every word, within the darker reaches of

my world; I dropped the shadow wall so

you could see my naked form; swollen with

desire, cupped and ready for your blood;

Don't disappear, My Madness!

Drink me; don't let this offering go to

waste; I beg you, life me up into the sun;

And there, we'll float above it all;

even for an hour and a day; we'll dream

as gods do; and drink the decay of the world;

Closed off from you, I will suffer your loss;

and bend to the will of my false god;

He will hold me, enslave me; disrupt my soul;

until the bleeding passes and I am let go,

And then I will divulge you for your bed,

and sink into you, there, inside the reaches;

the darker reaches of my world.

The skin of your affection; the soft touch,

of your anticipatory cries; the frenzy in my

blood; and my madness to keep me occupied;

When all else fails, to catch hold of my

attention; I see your face, and it folds

me under and through; each instance of your

gaze consumes me solidly;

Dry, uncomfortable light; which glows for

the beating of your heart; it steeps in

mine; consumes my every thought, I try

to step away; to draw back my love;

But you are the fairest thing I've yet

set eyes upon; and I am fastened to you;

You are the sun without her sky.

The density of our love, written on your

collar; and scripted in fine writing,

Will you dance with me, beneath the moon;

And carry out our scars unto the end;

when dreams become reality and we mourn

the passing of an age; when dreamers die

and the real world fades away;

In scripted dreams; we'll stay awake

for hours, you and I; beneath a still

black, and bleak horizon; watching the coming

of a black hole as our sun devours what is

left of life upon this earth;

And we'll die; in reason's frame of mind;

we'll pass into the unknown origin of time;

Take me; now, before the cleansing begins.

Cold air, frigid skin; and the art of my perceptive

disengagement; she talks thinly agains the walls;

agains my beating heart she broken; and when she's

over spoken, I turn my way out; and ask;

Will she be surreal and distant for the night;

Or will she receive the fire that makes us burn;

even so; even willing to let go and fluorish; I'll

burn, and I'll breed my heart's contentment

for your fury; and I'll rage; and I'll write

miracles conscripted; and when it's done I'll

rest my heart and pray;

What little pleasant dreams.

While on the streets; and picking through the trash;

I see a glimmer of hope in my resolution's skin,

seizing her; I kiss her mouth with loving bite,

and stay the night beneath her bridge;

Hope's surface; her skin; transparent to the night;

and glimmering; she shines and I bite into her flesh;

It's a small door, to enter is the stuff of dreams,

my calloused hands purged into her flesh for my

resolve; and she weakens at my voice; and calls

her god; the whisper of her nightgown against

stone, I see her glimmer; and dissipate,

My new love; wrapped in plastic and in silk,

shimmering upon the water's surface; and I stand

upon the shore of her ocean; sipping tea.

The severing of our skin; our flesh and bone,

which we have spent our lives in binding;

to leave you on the doorstep, all alone;

to let you be; without the cradle;

Without the forces that may be;

Holing you into me, and the salt erodes;

and seasons every nook and cranny of our

torment; and we seize each opportunity

to set ourselves on fire, but the cradle;

And the comfort of our own home,

The straying of life to love; and passion's

play; the degrading sins I've caused to

corrupt this marriage; from within;

It haunts me now; and I would end the pain.

The drag and drop of our collective skin;

as we uncover the bare earth; and drink

the holy water of the fountain of life,

and dream; it wouldn't be the first time;

we were born

Into the collection of our selves;

Sometimes, in passing; I have promised you,

myself ; but plead with you now, don't

come near to me; for in this hour of my

death; all things will pass, and I will pass

into the youth of my ascension; or descend

into the reaches of the night;

Either way I've left you; and there is no

god here to take me back to paradise;

There is only the cold blast of soul's revival.

She is not silent, and I can't contain my voice;

when she draws near, all my walls that I've put up

against her; disappear; and she walks through

my barrier, unscathed; and we make love,

The most difficult thing, is letting go;

And so we walk among the thorns, and prick

ourselves; until we are a bloody mess of flesh

and bones, and we dissolve into the lake;

and drink its succulent juice; and sting

each other in the waters with our words;

Each bite of her, an incomplete taste of

ecstasy; each taste a delightful drop

of pain, and when it's done; and she

dissolves from being; and I'm left in

disgrace for what I've done to her,'

We drop a drop of honey in the well;

and wish that in tomorrow's fog will

deepen our desire and our love.

Bleeding in her well; the wish of her substance

on my skin; bleeding in sacrificial emotions,

to the one I love; and drowning in her dark

incantations; the one I muse;

Feeding off my melancholy madness;

And this desire goes into the end of time,

it begins anew each time that I survive,

and peril of death cannot keep us apart;

She loves to drain my heart.

Motion into matter, the way her voice sings;

and I cannot pretend to stifle this madness;

she makes my heart bleed with her song,

and I recover; just long enough to find

the speech to settle on the floor; these

words, this liquidity of life; the unadorned

transfusion of my blood;

I break; and in unrestrained revelry

my voice responds to hers; and the two are one,

dancing on the winds of the night; making

love, above the fire's light; beyond the reach

of gazing stars; we formulate our madness

into love.

The dawn breaks and devours every tangle of our nest.

The course in time we've spent; watching one

another in this bent and twisted melody of sin;

Complaining of the course we've spun;

And to this twisted web of our deceit,

we drive the nails deeper; and deeper,

into treachery's wall; and die there;

We will perish at each other's kiss;

The taste of wet lips on lips, and

when our fast has ended; we'll take up

each other's bodies from the dead,

and mark our sins upon the tomb;

And drown ourselves within each other's womb.

The drip; eternal blood, and in its pool

the darkness comes to light; and bears

breath; serene discomfort of the skin,

and her body quiets;

The hoarse feel of her throat, after

she devours all what's left of me,

my bones; and the death of my forgotten

gaze; spent day after day seeking her,

I should have spent my time,

more wisely; but it is passion's play;

played out on the waters of my death,

And it is no trumpet call to salvation;

but a death sentence.

She stole my heart and broke the spell;

and now we have to pay the price,

In angel's blood and demon's song.

It is passion's play; desire's bent will,

and I will creep inside your soul, for

another taste; I'll spend my summer days

disrupting your world, in intricate

foreplay for the nights I have imagined;

With you as the bride; my bride;

Concluded distant songs, a dreamer's daze;

resolution to our insanity, and spiked drinks;

To take away the edge,

A drop of honey, dissolved upon the tongue;

and your lips.

The sweetness of our kisses;

upon the darkness of the night,

a silent lullaby to bruise us both.

Enter in the devil's advocate; a harmless word

spoken at our assembly; dull lies and the sword

pierced nearly everyone; dull lies of our defense,

and the word of our betrayer; layered in the margins,

Every ounce of your blood gives me a warning;

and I would die the wiser to have left you drowning;

but I admired your subtlety and your physique;

and couldn't count myself as one to hold you under,

I breathed my breath of life in you as you were;

And you awoke; in my arms, and on my lips;

a godsend; angel of heaven's descent; until

I heard the words you spoke in darkness;

but I entrusted you; I gave you my words;

I wed you with my madness and my decaying thoughts;

You spoke to me, you sent them in;

you gave me death within the morning's watch.

That which was; and which is to come,

the distant fates of our love; the setting sun,

and those who hold us under, beneath the flow;

Our purgatory wonder;

The documented cold ice of letting go,

a sealed kiss; and the distance where we fade

into the sun; our burning love, extinguished.

Lies, and tears; dreams of distant stars

that cost us everything we've longed for,

The purging of years of desire; and trust;

Fades;

And green pastures, and castles made of sand;

burning mires.

We fall, into the sea; and break our bondage.

The ruination of our ensemble; the dry decay;

and an undertone of fear, when you were wanting;

and I was not, and so we touched with false

emotion; our cave of lust, burning like a furnace;

Heat scoured the night's cool branches;

So said the daylight; so spoke the sun; that we

were dropped into the light of a full moon,

risen on the ashes of the dead; and called out;

with burning desire; and pain,

And the distance closed; sewn up clothes,

concealing our skins; hiding ourselves in the dim

grey of night; from one another's sins;

Hiding the truth of torn hearts, bleeding scabs,

and death. And hell's retreat.

You are the eradication of my soul,

and I abide in you; willingly giving myself

to your reflection; fire dissolves me in you,

and I delight in the incarnation of your body;

Your trickery and your deceit;

All mixed in one synthetic voice; to map

the territories of my own; my sick sense,

And bless the frozen earth I stand upon;

Your eyes feel what your heart denies,

and I can trouble you; the way I've troubled

those who came before you; I want your night

in shining disarray; the capture of your king;

Your love; lost in the confusion of your head,

And I will drink the blood from your dreary lips;

and sink myself beneath your worn skin; and call

you mine.

In days where I had forsworn your taste,

and better than let my love to fade,

I drifted on another's cloud to let the rain

fall; and as a prism, let the sun shine through;

Its dismal layers; and drank the drops;

As they raced for cover, wetting my lips with

the sourness of death; of love,

And the purging of a sore;

It drains me to think I could have imagined;

such a sky as blue as yours; or to feel the

grass beneath my feet as crisp;

But I unlocked the door and shut my face

between the bars of iron; and now; I drift

in madness at the thought of your perfection.

The way you moved me, when summer still was fresh;

and crimson skies flooded our days into memory's

chamber; I still recall your kiss, the one we never

exchanged in flesh; but only distantly through

words;

Words.

And to the night, I call upon

the washing of our sins; the dissonant

rise of interstellar demons;

The curse which we exchanged upon our kiss;

the nights in bed, I lay thinking of you;

undressed.

Naked, and exposed; to me.

The split motion of our minds, corrupted before bed;

and servitude of time will bring us to bear; an

effigy of youth; to burn at our desire; and our pleasure,

What pleasure it will be; becoming what you were,

The dark muse of a lost dream,

with silence as her sound;

Dropped acid, on the tongue;

And the worries of a lost generation,

burning into ashes for the dead's reconciliation;

Desire feeds on you; my love,

it feeds upon your blood;

And I contain the song now; of our lustful dream;

the drops of our passion, played on strings.

The dying rise of your conception; giving birth

to a drug, the lapse in memory and drunken purge

of every notion that was love; you seem to be

vacant for a time; and a spell,

White witch; drowning,

And this purged flutter of the heart, this

wildly blistered sore upon my thumb; and

scrapes upon my fingers where it was locked;

Your skin was bared; and every thought I had

Sank deep within.

You are the drug of my despair; my longing,

and I could capture you and drain you if

the night was clear and I could but see

Your face.

By welcoming your pulse; your calm, uncertain

course of blood within these veins; the rhyme

of your unsettled skin; I watch you breathe

as you succumb to sleep, at the edge of night;

And I can't swallow;

The shades of dark elude me as I watch you;

turn, but I can't find the rhythm to pursue,

and you are there; in the dark blinds of sleep

Drinking in the dew of morning's light;

I wish to overshadow you; as sleep passes,

I'll wake up next to you and eat your words;

and tear our distance apart in threads,

as you watch; drink your essence; and my

mistakes, the journeyman of the night.

The cold contentment of yesterday's approving air;

when the night whispered your name into my ear,

and the shadow of your face surrounded me,

I drowned in you;

You couldn't see me, I was a ghost with no

apparent features; an abstract sign to let linger

on the tongue; and you pressed on;

In my absence, you went dark;

And dressed in white; A shade of blue upon my lips;

left cold, depressed; an unresolved quantity;

I drank what I could find; within this room.

Your untouched scars; unseen scabs; the need to carry

our your will's desires, to keep them hidden, you

lonely girl; driven to betray me in her trust,

and I won't fold on you; I won't hurry and betray

I'll hold on until I need your company;

White, walking through the maze of our deception;

candles calling to her; the names of 14,000 dead,

without respect; without nailing to a cross or

even blood shed; she is my blood queen; and I

hold out for this one; who hasn't done me wrong;

Deny myself fair judgement, at the sweeping

of her song; cry a little; and belay the obvious;

It isn't meant to take root as such within this life.

The hurry of the daylight's necessity;

what couldn't happen between the two of us,

the rush of time and the descent into a quick slide;

We craved the hours-long indentured servitude

to each other; the fiery touch and the forbidden flame;

And when you touched my skin; it froze in fear

that every hour would pass and I would awaken alone;

And I did; alone without your charm,

without your presence in my arms;

But I subsided to the truth of it;

and felt the loneliness corrupt me,

It wasn't you; it wasn't your skin that soured me,

It was the blade of my own knife which set me loose.

The silence takes me, where I am; unfolds my

longings so they may be exposed; and as I

seeth with anger for the uncovering of truths,

I lay there; naked and exposed before the world;

And in a twisted track of mind, I repeat after

you: "The Lord is not my shepherd."

And then the wall falls, and it crumbles;

piece by solid piece it collides with my madness;

as I collude with darker forces than these,

Reel me up; lover, break these bonds of ours,

and sever out the pain of our existence;

Uncover the truth; let us reveal the insanity

of our existence; and place a path to simple

times and easy measure; there upon the diadem.

We've paid the temple tax; and now it's in our grasp,

this heaven's song to sing our dulled surrender,

we've the price of sinners; paid in gold;

drifters sealed with our ambitions and wasted youth;

All curiosities have been satisfied in you;

And when the Loch-Ness comes;

the devourer of my nightmares comes;

I will scream your name, into my bloody bath.

Shower me once again before the coming;

dredge up the pleas of our obsessive salt,

Sing with me, this heaven't plea; and then

only fade from me; don't tempt fate again.

You tempt me; scrawling your insignia upon

my flesh; and digging in your claws, just

above the wrists; and digging deeper than

you would have, should we had been alone,

The clock speaks truth; and I obey;

You are the night; and you would drag me

down into the deep trenches of your sleep;

and feed me dreams, and hold me under

the water; until my lips turn blue;

Kiss me;

The struggling for breath; the depth of

matter, of substance; the unrestful night;

Kiss me, and pursue me.

Beneath the table; with the filth and the

transgressors; we collect the pieces of our

broken love, divide our desires and pursue

Dark fantasy;

When will you be satiated by my prolonged

exposure; when will we drink our fill;

Succumb to sleep and dream, when will the

hourglass speak your name and say, "it is

enough." So we may sleep; and seize our

lives again;

When will the feast be over; and when will

the shattered lives we led regain their space?

Never in a hundred years; or more,

I will drain you; as you drain me;

In ecstasy's prolonged rhythms.

Within your container, free to speak; and free

to express my love; I hold the chains against

myself and try to find the words; you are the

night, and in your death I hunger, so do not die;

Wheels turn, and I drink the liquid fire;

of your ecstasy; written on the hands of the perverse,

with pen and ink, I still believe there's love;

in you, pursue me at your pleasure; tax me whole;

And when I sail, and when I set the sea alight;

You will watch it from afar, as if in dream;

and carry out my light beneath the ship; to burn.

We watch the walls; for our escape,

will come in the desire of our union;

we watch and pray for sin's return,

and for the desolation of our bodies;

We will return to feed upon our selves,

Within the howling voices of our minds,

reclaim our place; in distant drafts

of time; and place our hold in one another's

hand; to drift, and drink the blood

Of our excretion;

Plainly seen in the hours of our misuse;

drained fevers and harmless winds; mice

and rot, settling in; the decay of our

bodies; and our minds gone mad;

Written manuscripts recording our enslavement.

We reach for the tape, and seal ourselves inside;

into the inner place where the breathing subsides;

and down into the well; I dive, and I die.

Features fortunes that cannot be bought and sold;

her head contains the discord of my soul; and withered

dreams which cannot escape her mind; she's been shot;

And my heart bleeds for hers;

within this cold, secured religion,

I abhor the things she's done;

yet I remain, hers; and drink her

bitter wine, breathe her air and

Love the way she moves herself.

The density of air between us; not a crisp

summer breeze; but a fog, smoke rising,

And I contain myself within your embrace;

Let the earth shake, while I draw you into me,

and smell your voice; pouring from your lips,

as it hits the nasal passage; and grips my

desire.

Two folds of truth;

and one of dreamy madness;

Remembering you, and your touch; upon my mouth,

the locked door where you kept me prisoner;

I remember the long walks;

and peaceful curtains which we slept behind,

and when the Cradle Cursed, was dashed to pieces;

And everything fell apart.

Hope, in such a dismal regret; and the fading

eye can see; what marks the sky as falling,

what feeds the dogs of war; and claims the earth;

Heaven's gate; and its resistance, I can feel

the earth plummet into fire; my entire being

blown as ashes on the wind; as you speak your

voice.

Sedentary blues; I will transcend you from

the mire; secret away all your bad parts;

feed you to the dogs, one slip to cause

contention and I will slip you fire in your

vodka; sleep warm, and snug; while life

persists.

You walk the difference between worlds;

and I can feel you touch me through the darkness,

your pain at my sacrifice; and the will to remain

indecently exposed; your mother is mine;

She stalks me at the edge of dreams;

And I wonder what will become of her, in the end;

when four corners of the earth have been exposed,

and the shackles of our love regain their consciousness;

To you, I drink; the night's mixture;

Of pine and ash infused with ecstasy; and I drink

the mist of morning dew; sheltered romance in a cup;

stuffy eyed dreamer; this is what has become of you,

And this is where we're headed,

beneath the trees; encapsulating

the mist of morning dew.

Small frame; little one, don't be so long;

in coming, we'll wait for you beneath the moon,

and sky; drink the stars in, and wait;

Dust that doesn't settle; I've washed it off,

but skies won't shine the same; dust, in the old

drawer, lying thick with shame; in bad company

And when the dew collects;

Her binding frame, which weathers every person

through and through; I'll watch your thick coat

spread; you were wanted and unwanted all the same,

with your little crying bouts from pain's gravity;

I haven't told you how much it hurt to lose

Your voice; in the shadows of our flame.

The high we feel, within each other's arms;

and the perils of survival when we're apart,

a drop of blood can bring it to perspective;

Such a precious liquid; so vital

To our existence; and carrying such sin,

it's a matter of the gods to question;

Where our loyalties lie; in sacrifice,

or sinful pleasure and mine there is no

question where it lies;

Upon your bed.

A distance in your eyes; there is a coldness,

and a madness in your gaze, be fruitful and

multiply your sadness; my time will come;

when reality fades completely from my mind;

I've given up on reason's power to protect;

Insanity will take me in the night;

devour me as if I were her own;

and the blood will run thick with insight

Into worlds half dead and forgotten;

And my life will become a trance.

You walk the line between love and compassion;

I don't walk; I run in manic circles, out of

breath and into your spiral; it brings me down

into the depths of the night

But I keep running; with blinders on

Straight into the death of my desires;

and I would have you; if it were my wish,

I'd drain the life from you, contain it all

consume your soul to be with you;

And I would pay the price.

With all this speech; all these words,

I sink into my spell of fire, and I can see

the distance of dreams and how they are

regarded as such little things; Point

Spent in decades of research and study,

The moment of truth in a fit of rage,

unshelved madness; Spent

An unresolved philosophical debate;

or the fires of that rage; tempering

hate and an insolid mind;

Forced anger; destructive beauty,

collapse of the king. Everything

Takes on the essence of pure emotion.

Dead men rise; and the living fall,

into the darkness of the night; and

Satan comes to claim his own, to feast.

Good Shepherd, where are you now;

as the bleeding of the world completes

its course, and night pursues the young;

Where are you now, at the century's turn;

when gods are born; and man's hand has destroyed

so much, cities burn and the dead go

unmolested; cries from the mouths of babes;

Reap, and the world will be made plain;

burn what is left; and bring us to our graves,

save what can be salvaged from the flames;

And let the ashes blow.

This cold comprises what I feel; death,

revenge; blasphemy, and all resentments still

as water beneath the bridge; you run fire

through my veins, collect what innocence is left;

Through all the beating of the hammer;

what a fool you are, to think I'm still afraid;

But I can fear; it's in me. I just don't.

Walk on your water; and bless me with this curse;

to sail forever, unchained and unaligned;

With the misfortunes of love.

And death's forgetful face.

Love, for my taste and for my pleasure;

sweet, seductive love; and its denial,

one grace given in this world; is passion's

play, and the destructive forces it brings;

Let the world burn; for love.

Each compass turn; each clockwork strike;

forever in a state of awkward being;

contempt for love; the play, surrounding

beauty and the orchestra, I hold my hand

up to the light; and outward toward your

naked body; and it burns;

Every sentient thought be on your warmth;

and the cold rush in to take you away;

This is love; a loss;

A central pain.

Our light fill of fire; desperate days of incubating

dragons; the deep well of flame, where once you

walked with me, during the storm; and threw my

thunder out of place; listened to the demons drink,

And swollen with the spawn you assumed;

All casualties, all gnawing hungers; all miseries;

what would the people think; of a monster;

some will worship; but most will fear;

Fear and hate you for who you are,

Drifter on the wind, a child; not a killer.

Monster all the same.

Drink, and place the cup within my hands;

see the stars, and drink their luminescence;

dry your eyes; sweet lover, place your hands

gently on my knees and look up; into the night

There, where our fall arises;

Our gentle tumble from ascension's door,

here we'll cradle each other in the false moon;

drink.

Drink.

Leave the scars of youth unattended; and carry

up your cross; picket, and purge the necessity

of pain; ringworm and scars; and plain sight,

Let down your guard and lapse into darkness,

so let it swell and tingle on the lips,

Breathe in; and drink the kiss of loneliness.

The tension in your eyes, as you record our

dark internal struggle; flat truths, simple

stains and broken glass; where you want me;

I can be trouble;

But it's your imagination, not mine; leading

you, and into this foray you've gone mad,

I will accept your love; your isolated crime,

denial of my body at your lustful hands;

Sever and descend.

I drink in my entitled portion, the cup

you've let me have, and I awaken; within,

the monster of my youth; and she has

eyes for you;

What bleeds, follows the light; and that which

sees you succumbs to the darkness deep inside,

And waits, for the moment of your rising;

Where were you, when the shadow of my prison

kept me hollow; and the fill of my passion's

hunger would not be satisfied;

I would drain you of your life,

and leave you desperate; to wail

in your affliction's death as it

pours over you; but to contain you

In a prism; and hold you close,

Forever at my breast; within my reach.

We've reached inside the beast; pulled out

its heart and taken the skin as souvenir;

Put it on, it suits you;

While I caress your cave; the rock from

which you were birthed; your cavity,

Undress you; and place you in your womb,

a little frightened babe; suckle me,

Treat me as the mother you never knew,

And I will give you death; I will purchase

your life as a star which shines in the cold

night air; alone, and lonely;

I'll comfort you; before the fall,

before the darkness sets in and your light fades;

Before the pitch black of your corruption.

Rolling hills, a place where we can run;

and fall; down into the valley of the dead;

And we will rise, untethered;

And free; we'll rise again, and break

the chains of death; destroy our lives

for the innocence of a kiss, one small kiss

Left upon your lips, and in your scarred tissue;

without a fist, with open palms and serene sight,

left for the dead, as she bleeds her last;

and I will sing you to sleep, close your eyes;

The lightning comes, to tear your mind in two;

and I will bear witness to this madness; I will

be the other half of you,

Together, we'll make love concrete;

And leave our ashes upon the sun,

upon the sun, scattered and shed.

Erratic sun; set the fever for my heart,

where the blood dries like a thick skin,

and several other membranes reconcile;

Fortune comes with reasons for the pain;

And I need you together in one piece,

arranged and static with your love.

While each dream cast upon the sun;

dissolves the bitterness of night,

with uncertainty; with symbolic air;

she sweeps the moon from the sky;

Better times have been corrupted,

bitter skies have dampened the light;

dry your eyes; it's coming;

Do not fear.

In my delightful sun; where shines the brightest

of my lovers, And whereby I'm enraptured every

moment of my breath; she howls, and there is light

And I find breathing comes easy here,

So to the dark; I turn my back

and sign away my life to her exposure;

Distant suns shine;

but with little warmth;

So I deny them my breath,

Come what may in the shadow of the moon;

I will hold a candle as her offering;

and sing with my necessitated air of breath;

My lungs, beating for her return.

Where sunlight fades to ashes, I bind you

up in death; and carry you to my door;

Enter blindly; and wash your braids of silk;

Seduce me.

Compliant fantasy and birth of a New Age God;

to resurrect the finer points of religion;

and cause the company of dissonant souls to bond;

Each with the other's reminiscent heart,

and to the gates of hell; dissolve their chains

with acid; hallucinatory experiment gone

Mental; I see your face;

Madness consumes the larger part of me;

while I consume the earth in its assemblage;

false gods and their believers;

Remind me of youth's innocence; remind me of

simple fates; remove these chains and set me

free; reduce my insanity, and wait for my

redemption in her eyes.

I reach my pinnacle; and fall,

into the icy depths; where you

are waiting for me; hold me,

in your cold grip; and we will swim,

To the surface for our breath;

And bathe in the warm sun;

with warm sand beneath our feet;

Drain me of my blood,

reduce this ecstasy;

And drown me in flames;

So let hell be awakening of the soul.

Lies.

Trails of ashes; and death.

Beneath the skin, lies. Our haunted hurt;

realized through disease, through pain;

And hunger; lies which claim

our reason, arise insanity's suspicions;

captivate and collar; resist truth's pure

intentions; delude and distract;

With your coming spectre; upon the wind,

I will remember you; and when it's finished,

and I have called your name; fly.

Take me with you, madness.

Night creeps in and tears the soul apart;

each piece, a shattered remnant of the whole,

and my heart is blistered and beyond repair,

I gave it all to you;

And in this dreaming hour where all's surreal;

this bleeding fantasy I've concocted for our passage

through time; the heart stops, and the divine

presence of your own surreptitious heart concludes

With my death; and our passage;

into the unknown.

Walker, in my dreams; with a necromancer's heart;

and I should fear her but I don't; I think I love her,

New flesh; fresh, receding heartbeat to dissolve

into a bit of blood and boiling; no false pretense,

just a rough reminder of what I've said; you can't

capture love; you can't instill it in her; she has

to want to feel the way she does because she does;

And my next move; to steal what she does because

it doesn't suit my needs; or my desires, she's

damned for the dead; but I the living and I will

mask this whole persona in a day; clear out every

Hallway; closet.

One by one; drain the memory of this place.

With this dose of your intoxication;

I will drain the reason from my mind,

bleed myself into madness, and there

Will find the answer to my dreams;

To abide in ecstasy; and drown myself

in relief,

Your bitter blood can captivate me,

make me do things I would never think of;

Hold me under your spell; and under water,

drifting through the darkness of deep sea;

Show me your face; and I will bleed myself

into unconsciousness; that it may be my last

living memory; to be seduced; to be drained

Of my humanity; to be made clean.

It's staring me in the eye; my denial,

and my travesty; the hope I've given

out for a taste of truth in ecstasy;

No more complicated lip-swearing;

no more blades and no more lies;

Only death, from the inside,

She has control; and I will

shade the forest with my blood

Let her step outside her boundaries,

take the pieces of my ever after dreams,

and scatter them to the four winds;

Choke the life which binds me

to this world;

Demoness;

It's late in the night; and I can feel

you breathing down the back of my neck;

my soul invite; and I contain your breast

within my hands; your loving heart,

Beating for only me;

And the two of us shall die,

and I will want your death to be combined;

But when death swallows us,

and our breath leaves us,

When the love for you; my blood and my desire;

pales;

Truly death devours.

An aggravated surge; where I contain my rage

within a burst; and draw you near to me,

to push; the bubble bursts; and I can't swallow

all the pain I feel inside; so you, take note

Take the pain away; my bride,

Come into the well; where I am wholly empty,

face the night as I do; while I dream, and keep

your coffers hidden and your mouth; let it touch

Only the lonely and deserted;

Draw them out; like magnetic magic,

to fill the void; inside; I'll draw you out

and listen to your pulse; fade.

I want to tear your heart out of your chest;

watch the blood bear witness to our love,

and to caress your skin; to weather it with

my kiss; and to consume you; inch by inch;

Dress you in the finest pearls;

And underneath them, leave your skin exposed;

I am a creature of the dark; you think you know me,

but I have a void to fill; it ebbs and flows,

this hunger and my pain; my bipole; and I will

draw you in, in a bout of ecstasy; feed you lies,

And leave you wanting;

Death.

You purchased my love; and now your price,

that I might have you while you sleep;

in furs;

Howling in your dreams; at the moon,

And in my darkened thoughts; I'll speak to you,

in silver strains; and cover you with subtle wounds,

Bleed you while you dream; beneath the moon;

Howl.

Whether the district of the lights plays tricks;

or this is a burning flavor for your tongue;

too damned to recall your infatuation; stay hoarse;

and sing. Contemplate the call which makes you mine.

Two calendars; dated with the months, and days

years of long living without you, without your

touch; and I surrender all to let you close to me;

Drink you in;

Let the fissure close, our skin and blood;

united in a desperate flow, drink you in;

And sever the ties that bind me to another,

her helpless hands broken without a peace;

Drowned by the decay of my uncaring earth,

which stands before us; I will drink you in.

And seize the years spent in isolation's

shower; perceived by cold, withered hands;

Empowered by the toiling of an hour's death;

a drink, of milk and artificial sins;

the fat droplets of my love; skimmed off

the surface.

Take your hands off me; give me your love,

without discretion; but with blood; and tape

it to my flesh.

Push button love, the kind which collapses

at the ring of a doorbell or a spouse;

intermingling in our affairs; one way out;

Through my obsession; through my incomplete

love I cannot contain my longing any further;

You'll drown, as well as I will;

and we'll breath a profound and dirty

sum of love;

Each bite; each taste of the night's progression,

holding you further beneath my dissonant dream.
