Writing
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Murder is a quickened route For a heart made of silver, Sculpted by ivory hands, To make the wares for meals set in place Upon the table, Where nothing goes to waste. I am, in the eyes of a distorted relative of mine, The man whose love could cross the shallows of Hell To reach…
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Piloted tensions, Overwhelming decisions To create the flames, that do not ever descend Down towards the waters, For not even such shimmers of such puddles Wish to reach for their mothers, For their skies, Of where they were let loose. Does rain fall, Or do tears? I have welcomed love, like a black cloak about…
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Let loose the tendrils To your chestnut locks That twist sideways, Curling towards your eyes, Leaving sparks of this very lust That clouds life into a moment, frozen in the wasted Years of our plentiful time. You have beauty that exists, Though does not exist. You mark your path through an entertainment Of many forgotten…
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Without a tear Swimming in the chalice of my defeat, I can only revel In the unspoken laughter, Unspoken prayers, That hide behind a layer of mist, Clouded by judgement upon my poor self. I eat tears to breathe In the dust of a thousand miles of lonesome journeys. I once loved with the heaviness…
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Our bliss, Our entrance Into secrets untold by the firelight, Raining down your back Are my words that do not fade Like that of the sparks upon the rising tendrils Of flame. Let a burn capture the highlights Upon your cheeks, As the stare of your eyes Allows radiance to grow greater than the sun…
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Within the disease of myself, Or of everything around, I steal myself the closest glance Of one who cries When I cannot laugh. I cannot frown, Nor can I smile. For what purpose does it entail When I am drowned by the retail Of different emotions that cannot stand On the rivers of streets, Within…
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Swallow me, Darkened hearts, Ruptured souls, For I vent out the wishes of a dismembered child Who breathes his own gulps of blood upon the stones. A man, as a child, As a servant to protest Of one discarded soul. I do not suffer enough The remains of my youth. Life has enveloped me, while…
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Overcome me By the flood, of your current Emotions that do not cease. I am stilled, in my place Beside the waterfall that merely shows my reflection, Drifting apart from where I stand. My love has nurtured me, Fed me, Healed me, As where beauty can be seen, There is none to be found. I…
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We will lay here To count each others wounds, Frozen of blood, Leaking of shame, Like the stars above us. You are the world I once knew, So let us start with a kiss To see how you grew. Your eyes, the color of the sun, With your eyelids, the covering of the universe When…
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Only my eyes Have ever seen the tears you’ve cried Out from pupils that were blacker Than the soul you carry low in your arms. Beauty has been wasted On canvases too thickened by mistrust and defeat, On the spiderwebs that caught more that flies, On the vines within the forest That grow more than…
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Hold fast Words that do not mix Well with the dust of stars, With the fuel for flames, With the ashes of a thousand homes Crumbling beneath the house of God. Your words are fickle As the breeze that does not stand still. You move across Oceans, as easily as landscapes. When will Autumn not…
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How often to force your way To see the sunrise, The awakening pain At the surface beneath your feet Crawls to your eyes To break open tears Upon your hands, Shielded as you are From the coming swarm? How often to force your way To see the sunrise, When pain sinks you beneath The sheer…
Modern Romanticism 