Anomalous

These little haunted things I call my thoughts,
I lock them up in this ornate box.
Turn the key: click, click, click.
Here I am, not quite dead but deathly sick.
It scratches, belches, kicks and knocks,
whatever is in this tiny box.
Swallow the key and don a crown,
but I only want to put it down-
alas, I cannot, this is my fateful lot.
Stomach aches and keys and locks.
There is no cure, no secret door;
everything is as it was before.
Almost. Not exactly. Not precisely.
And lastly, it comes back and back and back and back and back and back.
Hymns of revelation.
Leave me at the altar.
She looked back but I did not faulted.
Spread your wings and flap, flap, flap.
Jabs and stabs and bloody rags,
all torn and tossed and left for dead;
here I am within my head;
yet not alone this time.
There is a visitor: a quiet, timid soul;
a beautifully dark traveler.
Terrified, I would expect, given the complexity of this triviality.
Will you play and will you stay or will you simply run away and leave me here with my box and with my crown and awful thoughts?
To ache and cry and drown and die?
Interesting, nonetheless, to welcome such an unexpected guest.
Give it space and do not kill it,
not just yet, not until I can regret.
That is how we measure friends: by their ends and by amends and by and by and bye.

Condemned

Carry the roses.

Take love in small doses.

Exhale this fractured blackness.

Step backwards.

Immolate the space.

As surely as the beasts of purgatory lust for blood, I crave bliss.

Ignite my veins, pure ether. 

I am forced to say this.

Afflictions I cannot trace.

Fate I cannot taste.

A test I cannot fake.

And on this night, alone with my smoldering imagination, I weep tears of lunacy. I stretch my mortal hands to the heavens above and curse the conspiracy that haunts this skeletal wreck.

Break me.

Hate me.

Forsake me.

I am restrained in these remains.

For a time.

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December’s Eyes

Shattered glass reflecting pain

Refracting love

A ring of polished stone

Infinite wells of stardust

Webs of beautiful lies

Catch me as I fall

A forest to be lost in

Embers of imagination

The labyrinth of the soul

Bury my sins

Give me a graveyard to die in

Hope, fear, wonder, screaming—

Questions, doubts, fears

Flicker, flicker, flicker

Something restrained

Something dark

Ink stained memories

Blood stained regrets

Undefined. Unnamed. Disowned.

Divide my existence into equal pieces

And let me go

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A Requiem for a Life not Wasted

I love those instances of  happenstance-
the snowstorm,
the power outage,
the last chance to dance.

The scent of wet pavement.

Eyes that spy beyond my face.

I love these moments more than most-
an old friend or flame like a ghost.

The honesty a child speaks.

Kindred souls and the secrets they keep.
The full moon shredded by stoic pines.
Lips that pout with distaste.

A tear surrendered to gravity,

a glimmer of humanity.

The odiferous cast.

Itchy scabs that won't last.

Paper and pencil. 

Books and pens.

Stories with tragic ends.

Pale skin on a slender frame.

Walking slowly in the driving rain.

Teetering on deception-
deeper, darker, haunting reflections.

The odd. The awkward. The outcast.

The mutt. The runt. The half-blood.

The heartache of true love.

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Beyond the Gate

The creaking of a distant gate;
Breaking waves through the fog,
Settling among the mossy rocks.
My tired fingers play a somber song.
In the blackness, iron bends to the will of empty men.
None of whom I call my friends.
The gate, it swings again.
Some specter crawling on my skull sips liquid dripping from my pen,
Mixing hope with reality.
My mind locked up in fantasy,
I let them in again.
Keys of bone within my grip,
Hear my voice deteriorate in unclean spaces.
Hark this humble, humble, humble cry-
Do not let them in.
All who pass beyond the gate will hurt you.
Latch it tightly before each frost.
This chasm of hate protects us.
Do not forget me.
Lock it now before all is lost.




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Mass Effect

I do not love the ephemeral world.
I have no attraction to material.
Instead I lust for the unspoken double entendre.
I quiver in ecstasy at the interwoven fibers sprung from wings of unseen butterflies.

 

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With Crows

I am with crows.

I see them watching from my star-crossed lover’s eyes.

My descent into madness is not descent but elevation.

At my window, in the air, on my pillow as I dream.

I walk the streets surrounded by their ever-present loneliness.

They mock me as I mingle among the dead.

The shudder of my heart, miscalculated.

They quiver with gilded tongues.

In this pestilent hour, I rest my hope on darkness.

I am never alone.

I am with crows.

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