I cripple myself,
In horrid wings formed of bleak feathers,
And I have pleasured myself in sadness,
For it was a bottle I drunk from,
That had your bitter tears.
I found love awaiting me,
And drew joy close to me.
Love was stilled, as a heart, buried in dust,
A milk-white breast glided past a heart,
The Devil in me had awoken.
I nested her beauty in a chamber of ice,
And made music from plucking each heart-string.
Death, and its music of somber notes,
Fell upon my ears, and laid there,
Death was my token to realization.
I am a mere man of nothing true to be harbored,
To be expressed, upon sheets with pen in hand.
I have a face that is bruised,
As I deal in the business of drunkenness.
Misery has always been my mate.
Feel the Nihilism crawling gently
And closing its jaws about my neck.
I am a man of nothing comprised to make love a truth,
What I have undone to fail,
As she sleeps between two fallen stones.
Two nails and two pillars,
That have closed shut a coffin.