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We had lacked All we can grant back To men upon their sailing oceans That reside In their despondent eyes. They cry waves To the maidens whose devotion they gave Upon the furthest lands across From themselves, in the saddest miles Of whole loneliness. In speaking of dust, There can be spoken of silver Gracing…
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Letting the rain Tuck your arms beneath the covers. Letting the fallen snow Filter your eyes from the remnants To a pitiful stream of sunlight. I am releasing you Of the guarded you. You held up your shield long ago When you resisted my kiss. I will wake you From this ebony sleep To come…
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Do you hold on To the rings we carry On fingers that have bled More droplets than beneath our eyes? We have held on, With hand upon hand, Wrapped in a circle, Not yearning to release. You squeeze, Though, are gentle In your tightness. Our arms are around. Wield me, As I wield you Under…
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“If one can comprehend with ease, that the mind controls the human form of arms and legs, like a puppeteer controlling their puppet, then it should be easily comprehended that love controls lust. By that meaning, it is the mind being of love, that dominates the form being of lust. Love dominates lust, by the…
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A shattered world, A spurring dove, How my only love Could find it in her heart to bleed. Her porcelain flesh, Her chestnut locks, Her cheeks that fill the moon In an empire of doom. I want to have What makes me glad. I have turned roundabouts into lullabies, Where circles are but for the…
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Her eyes Cry aloud for the ebony skies. I wish to pull free her sadness, To turn stains into marks of glee In where she shall gently flee. I wrap arms around to pull her close, That I might soak in her bleeding skin. What a world That caves in To me in the solace…
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Shadows scorn your eyes, Making you The puddles that surround your feet, Hurled there by your fingertips. Can the lashes Atop such a delicate gaze Carve out more than the fear in your face? For like dewdrops on blades of grass, They fall from the black. I am in needless Frailty, Whispering between the stones…
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You are weeping something aloud For nothing That can draw in the crowd, For each of your children have departed. Drink those tears Let loose by your fears, I will come to make whole what has shattered Of you, beneath the blasphemous sun. Of your worship, You send splendor to my eyes. Even to my…
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You shelter Yourself, beneath your own rain. Your eyes have their own clouds, Burning waters to fall upon your face Marred from lucid terror. Beauty Has rained like fallen flesh, Like burning limbs Over your ashen, skeletal form. I am the man Who can hold your hand For a thousand more years Upon this land.…
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What makes the woman feel empowered? In the two eyes of mine, and only the two eyes of mine, I have observed it to be somewhat natural for a woman to be interested in vastness. Vastness of choice, and never a submission to limitation. She is interested in what causes her horizons to expand, and…
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“It is only those who came so close to death, who can comprehend what it means to remain around life’s preciousness. To cling to it, to soak themselves in it…” – Modern Romanticism
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