Writing
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As a man,The night speaks harder than day.As a woman,I might falter to see the mirror,For fear of seeing what asks to quicken;And I am in pain for it all. I feel tears,More than I allow them to run.I breathe pain,More than I feel it. I sing the song of sadness and heartache,Even more than…
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Between all stilled forms,Where tension summons up,The most felled-upon,Of sinners.There is you.There is you for the statuesThat seem to weep. They shield their eyes,Unlike you,Because you only stare,At their discarded and frozen bodies. You were loved,Like the tragedy, made to be,Made to be the most hellish curse,Of this newly-won marriage,And a conquered woman you’ve become,Like…
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With all my temples,And all my walls,It is not enough. It is not enough to speak,Of my wishes, and my admiration,Though, to be frugal and crude,So thou has died beneath my feet. I have been a devil,For but a moment,And made a bloodied floor. Your eyes were looking tall,To where I built a sculpture,And saw…
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I fell with an idleness,Made to attract the many peasants,Made to attract my torture,The despondence and the belittlement. The upbringing of my guise,The romance of my mass.The church with its cross,Does all to be damned. It’s all the remains of a shape,One hung up, like a portrait on the wall,One of eyes that are listless…
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Her ethereal,Becomes commonplace,When as the witness,To the sight of depravity. The sight of God,Too bright,For wicked stains,Of blight,To make a grand performance,For the mark of love. She has the form of an infant,But the exquisiteness of the priestess.She has the desires of Eve,And the embellishments of Adam. She has the warmth from the sun,Though, the…
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Your shielding hands do not wash tears, But merely keep your face hidden from the crudeness, Of my blatancy. Of balance and form, of folded wings that burn.
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The apocalyptic shadow,Of my eminent devastation.My salvation,Could not have come sooner,By the noose,To the box. To the soil, and attempt to rejoin,What I had lost.Was she lifted?Was she granted,The heart of God, of any God, of any faith,Rather than my own, for I failed? Indeed, I failed, as was my wont.Accustomed to failure,And now, she…
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Unloved and made for pain,Here is me, made for the world to see,What is death with a breath?What is love without the sigh? With a face once so full of gold,And no more beauty to behold,Angel wings burned,A life upturned,Like mine,And I fell upon a thorn. Sympathy is the reward of the overthrown,Stepped down to…
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Your tears know deeply, my futility,My shameful passion that I exalt, so easily.You have beauty running over youAs years of worn flesh. You have eyes that run nakedThe tears of a yesteryear. Of a past so dormant as the lastTime you had poured a tear from a velvet eye.Of all times where denial roams,I am…
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The most beautiful of orchids,Has soon met her fate,By a dying rose,Upon her somber face. Her sorrow reaches to the Earth’s end,Away from my trembling hands.Disease and pestilence, are my only reward,For my fleeing from safety. Her number grew gradually,Among the rotten many.The many poor to which she brought herself,Low, for a kiss,Flooded London’s districts,…
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I feel for thee,My worn beauty.Your frail, and vivid form,Shows likeness to me. I find destiny, itching to see,The most heinous parts of us,Broken together, we are soon among death,Failing to remember, beneath bated breath.And your eyes!They revealed the most sickening heartache. You died, with your love entwined,Vast in the many folds, of your long…
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I bathe myself in your splendor,And stoop myself under the light of your smile,I savor the breath that comes off as sweet,And drink deeply from all victims of mine. I am, and will always be, my own enemy.I am tremendous, in how I own myself,But I am a pitiful beast, with no mark.I place myself…
Modern Romanticism 