I'm a Ghost in the snow.
Never finding warmth
I have no life,
I have no soul.
I'm damaged, and broken.
Nothing can fix me.
But I need you to try.
Help this Ghost.
Melt the snow.
-Dead Inside-There's nothing left of her,
She and the unborn son taken.
I held her hand
As she went unto the Fade.
I held her hand
As her body cooled.
I saw red,
Leaving me but a Shade.
I saw red,
As her blood pooled.
Vengeance is mine.
He has been sent to Hell.
I will be fine.
Before you ask, All will not be well.
Forever and Always, I am Dead.
-Wings of Blood, Wings of Steel-I stand proud and strong.
Loyal to my beliefs,
I strike at my enemies with
Unrelenting wrath and fury.
I am the vengeful hammer,
Defending my lord's land.
From without and from within.
None are spared my flashing blade
My steel gaze pierces even the most
Sturdy of souls.
Fear me, for I slay on wings of blood.
Love me, for I fly on wings of steel.
-Sanguine Haze-Walking among the sanguine graves
Statues of Angels cry blood
Can't see beyond this Crimson Haze
Cathedral ruin, Stone rubble, Broken stained glass
Rusted black gate, can it... will it open?
Oaken doors, large, engraved with demons and angels, Off it's hinges
Stone benches, Stone altar, black cloth
A stairway? Going down, getting colder
Dark air, Suffocating chill, no walls
No ceiling. Void. A landing, another iron gate
Dead end? No... Eyes, of Garnet, of Amethyst
Staring at me, watching me. Blades of bone.
A roar. Then nothingness.
-Blood Red Snow-My scars, crimson red and deep.
My eyes, cerulean blue and clear.
Despite my beauty I can not match
The beauty of blood red snow
My love for life is like that snow
A chilling fire, a burning cold.
I see a lake amongst the white trees
A lake that's waters are as red as my scars
Help me escape this beautiful, horrifying place.
Give warmth to the fires in my heart,
Before I become the Blood Red Snow.
-Angel Wings-No one knows who I am.
Not even I know who I wish to be.
Past lives, Dreams? Memories?
I smell trees, rain, the earth, blood, death..
The scent excites me, pulse racing.
I long for blood against my tongue.
I yearn for the scent of fear.
Pure, light, Your angel wings
Let me burn them to dust.
let me breathe deep your pain.
I taste your lust from here.
No rhythm, no rhyme
-Waters-Grey waters, to match a Grey sky
Grey sky, to match a Grey day
Grey day to match a Grey mood
Mourning a time spent in mine paradise
The day, mood, sky, and waters seem to mourn with me
As if, I started to cry, so too would the clouds open
to release the rain, and flood the earth
Sorrow; choking, drowning, suffocating, and mine.
As I stare into the waters.
Grey waters, to match a Grey mood.
-Spark Of Light-The daemons within my chest laugh
As they tear my soul, shred my heart
The daemons laugh as I am taken away from you
my love, my life, my happiness
I miss you, though we had just parted
All my life I've been blinded by shadows
until I got to hold you in my arms
A spark of Light...
You are my Sun, disperser of the night
I've waited my entire life to bask in your rays
All the world is waiting for the Sun
To lie here under you is all that I can do
The daemons wail as I think of you
Wail as they are denied my sorrow
You, my family, have always been
My spark of light, in the darkness
-But A Man-I am but a man.
Not a beast, nor a dragon
Man, with flaws, fears
not claws, nor fangs
A pretender, with a facade
An ego which doesn't exist
Confidence, that's not shared.
I love, as any man.
I cry, as any man
Yet I am no one.
Nameless face in a sea of faces
Faceless name in a land of names
I am but a man.
Who doesn't exist.
-Untitled-Lost in a world of doubt and deception,
Shadows block the light, until you came.
You shine light that cuts through the darkness
like a knife through flesh.
Blood seeps from the shadows
Blood tainted by darkness.
My own liquid of life...
Heal my wounds, Take away my pain.
I shall do the same for you.
My rozeta frumos.
My inger frumos.
Te iubesc, Truly with all my heart.
ElenaElena followed me home
from work one night
and stayed for tea and eggs,
and all that minimum wage
and wars between the sheets
She said she was a goddess,
daughter of a carpenter
with her long red, red hair
and eyes as warm as hazel nuts
on Christmas morning.
Her hands spoke braille
across my back
and made the silence
of Sunday into a prophecy.
She left one October
just like she said she would
when the fireflies
had turned their wings to ash.
And I found revelation
in red, red wine
and cheap red, red fabric
that came off in my hands
WineHead on a patisserie table
with a wine-scented napkin
that I scrawled your name all over
in the hopes it might necromance
or just romance you
to this place, at this time,
so we could be together again
and although the guitarist knows
that I'm broken beyond blue
I keep reaching for the bottle
in the hopes it might recreate
or just replicate
Finding HappinessShe's burning up like a suicide note
And upon it's legacy lines
Scribed in crimson ink
Is all her little curios of happiness.
Before misery waddled up,
Knocked over her correction fluid;
Erasing all her joy in a blink.
There's a tape recorder by her side
Skipping a death tone melody;
The silence she hides inside.
Should she stop.
Wipe her days of self-pity and hate
Until she can record a new song
Upbeat to a happy tune of fate.
By her crumpled flat dress,
Glares wild, her knife and her pills,
Though the sight macabre
Only sets her heart ablaze to chills.
Serrated metal to barcode in
A reminder of all her undying pain
And the dark she kisses within.
Numb, she knocks back medicine,
Her bus stop on the highway of life.
Faltering she drops lipstick blade and
To an honest mirror she turns...
What ever happened to
The smiling girl?
What ever happened to
Her innocent future?
Tears fade to a calm stare
Which unravels a soulful grin;
A u-shape of acceptance
To new challenges she mus
I'm too poor to feel so middle class.My teeth still ache from the dentist,
but it doesn’t stop me from nibbling
the cheese danish I bought at Kroger
this morning, warmed by thirty
seconds in the microwave. My mug
of hot chocolate is too big, and I
drink it all. The washer is on its last
cycle; the cat is purring at my feet.
Netflix is background noise
to clacking keys, typing a transcript
of middle class morning that I’ll later
call a poem or a turning point,
wondering when I became such an adult.
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echo
of a cloudburst,
the earth curls invisible fingers
about my achilles' tendon
she cries that i am not
intended for the clouds,
that my mind must not wander
between their susurrous concaves
furious with her insistence,
untether myself from the soft,
diaphonous comfort of the heavens
down into the weight of gravity.
listless green blades welcome my soles,
stimulating a tickle,
a sneeze; i never have done well
she is calling for me,
soft-tongued and crisp in her
& i am sorely tempted
i am not for the soil.
she becomes my inhale;
my alveoli shudder
beneath her force--
i am not for the air, either.
i stand beneath her onslaught
until she tires,
her molten heart beating beneath my toes;
unable to woo me with her facets,
cloaking me in one last attempt,
a final shadow.
my pores bloom
& i r
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,
or to have myself cradled
in the curve of a throat,
but to be broken,
to be diminished
by your lack of affection
& over indulgence of sexualization.
uneducated in your intent,
found myself left entirely whole
& incapable of the fury
i had sought to sow between the
ridges of my aching ribs.
Thy Fallen AdamO father, thou hast forsaken me.
Thou hast breathed essence
Into these corpse lungs, and yet
Thou had cast me out
Into this cold black with no regret.
Why dost thou shudder so father?
Thine eyes were the first I
Bore witness to in mine blossom.
'Ere did that grace of life ebb within;
Yet thou did but blench and look
No more upon thy creation no farther.
Dost thou have stomach to embrace?
O father, I ought to have been an angel,
But alas thou hast sewn a villain's face
To hide mine internal beauty.
O father, why thou elude me of love?
Thou elude my diabolic presence
With thy Prometheus hands, and still
Thy plague am I to thou
In pestilence dire I maketh thou ill.
Where dost thou go to weep father?
Look! Even stars insult my frame
Ne'er did the celestial offer me comfort,
Yet thou would dare mock too.
Only shallow rain cries tears ever blue.
Dost thou have conscience to behold?
O father, did thou not dream me as mortal,
But I am a patchwork of nightmares old
As a mirror of thy own cruelt
she suffers melancholy like the plagueshe cannot raise her voice to reach
the notes that she adores
without the ocean escaping from her eyes,
and she cannot kneel in prayer
to the god that she tries to love
without copper staining the pavement,
but she can scream into a room and not be heard,
and she can deprive her stomach and not be seen--
these are not the type of talents to be appreciated,
to be loved without condition,
and so nobody does.
i. one way to wake to dawnhalf the time i never
wake - i lie half-sleeping under
stars made of the flash of headlights on oil spills
and smell the gasoline-stench of
dreams as they try to breach the breakwater
of my eyes.
insomniac, they say, and i just
listen, half-alive -
scientists wonder why we need sleep and i can only say,
we don't. sleeping leads to dreaming
and not a single soul needs that
kind of disappointment, anymore.
but sometimes i find myself
into sleep, disjointed, falling through the rabbit
holes found in zeroes of one o'clock, two -
and as i wake to
shimmering sunlight shining through the
blinds, across the walls, i find it's worth it (just
this once) to watch and learn