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.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers think
We may dream our reality.
With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?
Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.
When no one speaks to me for hours
I begin to wonder
Is everyone dreaming a reality that includes
The whole café but me?
The street outside the window
With passing strangers, dogs and cars
Is a whole new Milky Way
Waiting to be discovered.
But I am no space explorer
Aliens are beyond my reach.
Whispers of the people around
Reach my ears distinctly
Like waves lapping on the shore.
Words on paper go no way
Towards proving that I was ever here
My identity is slowly condensed
Not into the people who kno
EmbeddedI'm trying not to wake up with your mouth on my mind.
Trying not to sit up with a jolt and a flash
of vertigo because I'm not used to you not being here
to ground me.
I'm trying to close my eyes without imagining yours.
Trying to get back to sleep and not think
about how much easier that was when you were here.
When I couldn't breathe
because the smell of you made my heart swollen and tense,
when kissing your neck was an imperative
not an option
and I couldn't question the pleasure under your smile -
- that smile - God I should have kissed that smile when I had the chance.
Hands smooth sailing hips and waist, delving,
digging, desperately trying
to break your lakely composure.
A crack in the ice to tell me that I was
more than convenient
and I would have been lost...
but I would have been lost in you.
I find myself lying alone
in a bed that reeks of regret
because I touched, you closed your eyes, you sighed, I touched but damnit,
we didn't kiss.
tutorialtake an evening -
reclassify emotions as chemical compounds.
remove one atom,
see what changes.
take your field notes, transcribe them
back to front.
add line breaks.
be scientific. be too scientific.
replace the word 'entropy'
with the word 'god'.
be so full of want that you can feel it
scraping its numb jaws against your insides.
write about flowers instead.
make your first line provocative.
follow it, let it unfurl -
inauthentic, try again.
who the fuck
read, find inspiration.
find new ways to plagiarize old ideas.
hash and rehash,
slash and burn.
look at the mess you've made.
spend an hour flicking back and forth -
write about family. if it hurts too little,
write about flowers instead.
use a word bank.
write in the dark.
write from within your own skull.
write your litanies.
write your lines.
I re-create my world
from what the moon has left hidden,
soft motes and shafts of twilight,
tucked away in the shadows of night.
They spin like tendrils,
silver wisps that trace outlines
of city streets and skylines,
and spatter their traces over the paths
that greet my feet in the morning
and wake the world anew.
They grow warm and feral
starting in golden buds,
threading their way through fields
and blooming in a riot of horizon
that yields up its bounty
and gifts the waiting world.
They make songs from scattered words
and music that clatters from clouds,
caught humming on the wings of starlings.
They paint pictures with faces
and colors that bloom from landscapes -
all captured in the days lazy palette,
swelling the world in bee sung glory
where the sun crests its orbit
and carves out the new day