Never Alone

I chase my thoughts in circles with you at its center, 

Clawing at my mind's eye with fists of cotton 

Growing dizzy in the pursuit 

With the taste of distain and disillusion 

Wet on the lips. 

My preferred indifferent, 

A noxious shot of novocain into the temporal lobe 

Leaving you scrambled like eggs 

With a slice of butter and a pinch of salt. 

The soft ease of slipping beneath the surface 

Only to be jerked away 

With the sudden revelation of choaking on your bath water 

That never turned to wine and in the end left you unclean. 

You step into a thin film of filth that clings to the skin 

Your new robe fit for a king. 

A garment to marvel for the ages

 Tanned in sadness, stitched with pain, and hemmed from anguish 

A death shroud taught to stand like a man. 

Beatings grow stale after time 

Leaving the only real wounds just beneath the skin, 

The ones that never seem to scab over 

Even when left unpicked. 

Tomorrow’s dreams always lay on the other side of Sisyphos’ bolder; 

Your clouds fill my eyes upending my equilibrium 

Sending me stumbling from one misnomer to the next, 

Focus cuts hard to port shattering against the rocks of reason 

Driven onward with that abstract compulsion 

To look under all the lids and behind each door for what is not there. 

It’s seeing the finished statue still laying in the ruff uncut stone and knowing it will never surface 

As false phantoms whisper sweet untruths 

To lure me back to my golden fetters 

To watch the shadows dance across my caves wall. 

Beauty Observed

Fire fills the veins and clouds the eyes; 

heat fills my mind at the mention of your name 

only surpassed by the heavenly drowning in your eyes. 

Throw away the key and let me fall endlessly..., 

no djinn could cast a greater spell 

the thoughts of you crowd in the head 

all the imagined personas driving the craving only deeper. 

I would have walked on the sun with you, 

touched its warmth as it spread out filling the lungs, 

breathing honey with each night 

consumed in each other, endlessly. 

Real passion only multiplies, 

a mitosis that fills first the chest then bursting outward. 

The largest fire first started with just a spark, 

your palpable on the tongue, 

a face to launch a 1000 ships 

where craven thoughts are held at bay 

looking only for the willing partner. 

Unchecked desire 

to have your cake and eat it to, 

to feed on that sweet soft nectar 

drawing life from barren ground. 

Gasping for air 

waiting for each word and shutter in their absence, 

a sweet supple intelligence 

a tree who’s fruit I could gorge myself on relentlessly. 

Its sticky and gets beneath the fingers and seeps into the pores, 

echoing into the very depths, 

a hurricane to rattle the windows and board the doors. 

Moving at the speed of thought, 

releasing the restraints of the day, 

letting the hidden wants slip out into the page’s endless night. 

One-way streets are always lonely, long, and 

better to walk alone if not walking next to destiny. 

The hard fall coming down from a sugar high to the impact of reality, 

the thrill of the chase is only reality if capture is the intended destination and 

two souls forged into one its goal.  

The Checkered Tiger

No distractions can fill it, 

No path will lead it. 

So much was left on the table. 

My thoughts blend like taffy, 

Your sweet bright colors swirl into the mind’s black abyss. 

I look at the future backwards 

Getting drawn into the hallucinogenic minutia 

Snapping at fireflies. 

The minds mirror maze, 

Each turn loops back on itself 

Where you spend your days dancing with ghosts 

As reason impales you on the dreams of tommorow. 

Each day bleeds into the next 

Beating the drums of loneliness, 

The well-groomed precession of empty picture frames 

Each marching one to the next,

 Decorating empty walls 

In a forgotten home. 

No safe harbor in your eyes, 

Only solitary vapid thoughts 

Churning out nothingness 

Leaving nothingness in its wake. 

Sandcastles built on supposition 

Mixed with arbitrary fascination 

And sprinkled with upended compassion. 

A puppet with its own back story 

Hung around my neck like the albatross. 

I find your footprints when gaze lingers on my mausoleum, 

I can feel your heat as you pass by, 

I would have poured what was left into you. 

If it were destined to be it would. 

A teacup just won’t do after years of drinking straight from the hose, 

It was never meant to be sip by sip. 

If I don’t have another endless ocean, 

No boundless infinity stretching from stem to stern, 

Then the island I will become. 

The exit wound it leaves can only be filled with what was lost, 

No substitute can fool the guards. 

Mindless pursuit, one after the other, 

Each just as hallow as the last

Life was designed as a duet and once it ends you learn to live in the absence of light. 

Lost in my Hallucination

 Its black poison spews forth to once more 

scrub the hints of life as it tries to bury its fingers into hope 

dissipating into the noxious cloud of reality. 

Thoughts blend like taffy, 

bright colors fold together blending and combining, 

each layer mixing into the one above, over, and over; 

until you are left with only a dark putrid color, 

the reflection of a maladapted mind. 

The heart quivers when you cut the final cord of hope but in its absence, 

you find the gray calm where only the spirits are welcome, 

to drown you in the past and blind you to the future. 

I’ve tried to leash my demos, 

but they always chew through wearing a multitude of faces 

each one more mischievous than the last but 

all marking their deeds with my seal. 

True love goes straight to the root, 

when it dies the rot starts at the core and slowly worms its way outward, 

feeding itself on happy yesterdays, 

and fond memories until even thins thought sweet befour 

become bitter in your mouth. 

As darkness is the absence of light, 

evil is the absence of good it starts to fill you, 

like packing peanuts with each one signed wrapped for a Christmas 

that never comes. 

The cold wind chases after the laughter 

leaving the ground barren and empty, 

in salted earth nothing grows but 

the forgotten seeds of dead dreams blead into emptiness 

leftover from its first days when all mornings held the taste of perfection 

the unending new, 

drowning yourself in a picture of heaven built just for you. 

The more you kick the harder the reigns are tightened, 

where do you go when eternity ends, 

how do you stay warm without the sun. 

The mirage of tommorow, 

another phantom teasing at the edge of light only to disappear as you draw closer. 

In the end just as Alpha returns to Ωmega 

the self-eating snake continues its meal into oblivion. 

God leaves the hard choices up to you.

My Own Demise

 Wrapped in love and filled with tenderness you were more than any dream I could have conjured. 

I would have held you until the end of time, 

but time came and snatched you away, 

now I spend my nights holding loneliness clutching at your memory. 

Coldness most foul grips me now filling me at all times hidden from the view of others, 

its corruption seeps in through the cracks. 

You can see it in the eyes of other that get to close, 

they may not spot it but you can see the understanding of wrongness written across her face.  

The men of old could swallow this and turn into stones then hang it like armor from around the neck. 

The ever-pounding waves of weakness assaults the senses with each step, 

every minute; 

it ebbs and flows with days and weeks as placid as a looking glass but ready to change in an instant back to the torrent smashing at the rocks. 

The fate of Icarus is the plight of us all, 

a sunrise was never meant to last the whole day through. 

You keep it in a box in your pocket and take it out to look at in the dark, 

like a fading star it lives in half-life’s, 

its systematic dimming pronouncing the eventuality of one day winking out.  

Encroaching fear to be left in the darkness once more with its hard rhythmic drum beat, 

the empty scream dies in the throat with only the passing strangers wearing masks of confusion that try and stoke a long forgotten fire, 

with no wood to burn the heat turns back on you leaving long blisters hidden from the eye but strapped across the soul. 

Each bite turns sour in the mouth, 

you can tell all by the fruit corruption touches all as it spreads from the root. 

Pain should be burned down to its foundation then filled over with hard cement to hold the beasts at bay. 

Each day peals away from the one befour leaving nothing in its wake, 

the cold emptiness to great you each morning with the hope to great the dawn without the dark and grisly thoughts.

The Long Night

Are you another false dawn in this endless night, 

without stars I sail blind and feel the rocks but dare not turn away, 

compelled forward like the moth, 

is that what awaits the seared wings only to fall again, and again. 

Why does evil only suck at your bones it chews at the marrow settling in deep, 

it takes the back seat, 

but it is always close whispering just over the shoulder. 

Never the same way twice, 

the gushing torrent or the drip, drip, drip; 

its price is always hidden deep in the folds where the compass only spins struggling to find its direction. 

Beginnings are delicate, soft, weak and unable to stand on their own. 

On broken legs you cannot stand, 

life’s quicksand is subtle and unforgiving never free of the past its dark brushes paint unforgiving futures’; 

to weak to end it but to strong to lie down. 

Replace life with walking undeath misplaced musings drip from the pores filling the senses with heat, 

years of living with ghosts leave the mouth crooked and tie your thoughts in knots. 

The shattered glass of the future casts off a thousand reflections where truth becomes the spear that you impale yourself upon as you wander in the perpetual gloaming.  

With sightless eyes you scan the horizon looking for what has already come, 

waiting for the darkness to settle in. 

The breath of possibility is hot on the neck with dreams of undiscovered tomorrows dancing like candy plumbs, 

a shadow stage to disappear like vapor when grasped for. 

The fool’s palace,

decorated in the hopes of the idiot 

and dreams of the moron.

Don’t feed the Lions

Corruption eats everything,

it bleeds slowly into the soul.

Darkness has a weight it piles up like winter wood and burs hot in the deep of night.

 

Your words still haunt me.

 

My prayers went unanswered,

you did not become the miracle exception instead I led you through hell,

your own Josef Mengele.

 

I take it apart like a finished chess game,

so many missed moves,

looking backward gives no clarity just drags you into the phantom zone.

 

Pray death comes for you unaware for he is mean when you look him in the face.

 

I am lost at finding this lesson or is this not my lesson.

 

I pull it out and give it form,

how much of their love did Midas or Medusa still befour they had to act.

 

Nothing good comes from sinew,

I don’t know if endless paper is a blessing or a curse.

 

A better man would have taken that all away from you at the beginning,

never would have led you down a hopeless road.

Is the memories constant regurgitation just the dog returning to its vomit?

Your Automaton

It’s been wrung out and left to dry in the hot sun. 

If you are a surgeon and not a psychopathy burning ants to see what happens; 

What are you building. 

I wake up feeling like Frankenstein’s monster than some better form of myself, 

It’s the puzzle half perceived. 

Seasons changes, 

Summers heat fades, 

Yet the darkness is ever present. 

Morning comes and then the slow churn returns. 

To close to tragedies magnetic pole leaves the minds compass blind with a half a step from madness. 

You had the best version there is no 2.0 that could be better than what you had. 

Only thing left is broken file structure and corrupted memory, 

You can’t rebuild with ash but that is all that is left. 

I have always been moving toward a destination, 

Now I spin endlessly 

I’m perpetually too drunk laying back with my eyes closed, 

Only the nausea is missing. 

To many nights asking why left me in a staring competition with the floor, 

You don’t answer question only pose them. 

The load bares easer, 

It’s strange like noticing the dawn, 

When you take note, its already begun. 

I wanted with all that I had in me to be what you reflected in your eyes. 

I could summon your phantom and fill its mouth with my words, 

Let it coo me to sleep or berate me into the corner. 

I bring you less and less, 

To many years of living with your ghost I think has taken its toll. 

If it were easy then everyone would try it, 

True beauty is like the sandcastle, 

Enjoyed for a time but the waves of life are always approaching to erase it.

Missing You

 Drowning in memories, the weight of them can pull you down at times. Running 

Held to life with the many ropes of the Lilliputian, 

Where the dogs no longer bark, and the clothes hang from the empty line. 

Years of running forward leave one unprepared for the sudden stop that comes with impact. 

Even when going off the unavoidable cliff your mind is still caught in disbelief. 

Just as misery eats itself and multiplies, 

Happiness is only sweet when shared an embrace that sets deep into the soul. 

The reverse OZ, 

Watching the color drain from the world around you, 

Staining your eyes with too many unfinished yesterdays. 

The minds puzzle of the abstract future, 

To many dark alleys leading nowhere. 

Solitude is the nectar not the insipid parade of faces shining with back glow of vapid thoughts, 

The circus with no audience. 

Strength is sapped carrying to many bags marked for other destinations as mock platitudes are swallowed like stones with each one laying the foundation for the next brick on your road to nowhere.

Forgotten dreams only come out during the day waiting like crouching tigers pouncing with the passing wisp of a fragrance or the hint of a melody from a well-loved song. 

Arms cling to empty promises forged in the heat of passion that turn to dust as you inhale. 

Days stack like wood with each one passing before it began, 

Lost moments do not return you watch them as the cut deep lines into your face’s reflection. 

Grasping at shadows that disappear in the noonday sun, 

Fingers slip past uninterested hands each holding their own solitary funeral. 

Days are not new they are built of the bones of the past and the promise of the new while always living in the unchanging present. 

Lockjaw

The spinning compass, 

Pointing directly into the eye of the storm; 

No dancing around it only sweet submission. 

The mind churns, 

The bubbling stew, 

A rat’s maze inside a boiling potato. 

The right and wrong are found in the trivial, 

In that simple action you revealed your heart. 

Hurling words into the void, 

Your thoughts are like vomit they are better out than in. 

Those born without sight are not troubled by the dreams of the blinded. 

Constant vigilance for dark intentions spring from their own soil. 

The shallow mind breaks hard against the rocks of reality; 

Eat tragedy like one does the elephant. 

One must scrub hard to remove the stains that build up over time, 

Let only the clean be seen. 

A life spent fighting never ends it only becomes more adept at delivering cunning blows meant to break what threads of will you have remaining. 

A dozen times a day or more your ghost comes to caress or torment me. 

Given the chance I would have wished for more, 

To few words with so much more that should have been said. 

Endings always sprout beginnings, 

But the poisoned seed grows twisted and mangled, 

Mutilating its own inner truth. 

Yesterdays are always gone, 

Tomorow is never here, 

And now gets eaten by your own cowardice. 

Hope is the broken map that gives you the feeling that all is well just before you drive off the cliff. 

In the end it’s the gravestones that take the albatross’s place around the neck.

intense

Your words ring hard even from the grave; like a leopard I move without change. I do not know how to be anything more than what I am. I have never spoken human very well; the meanings always twist as the words come out. You were built for me; I was never built for you. Should have kissed away the tears not used a Kleenex, could have turned away and toward but instead transfixed in the headlights of the empty future. That moment when you should reply I remain silent; instead speaking out of turn saying what no one wants to hear. I live in those awkward silences and the words that had been better off left unsaid. You were the only one to ever truly understand me, you saw past it all, you saw the meaning behind every word, the thought in back of each action. You came from nowhere and my life changed. So fierce, never timid, always the lady, perfect grace. Your kindness is so missed. I walk the desert alone again now with the heat of your undead love traveling along. I am still yet to determine if it gives or takes, it’s all I have left so that recognition matters little. I don’t know where I am going anymore. I can’t go backward, spending my weekends in your grave is hard enough. I can’t keep it in, it escapes no matter how high the walls. Even the wounded animal will recoil in fear. I don’t know where I stopped, and you began. Nothing left but the poison. 

Stasis Treaty

Its Father Frank’s living purgatory 

The long day that seems to never end. 

Unable to get out of your own way, 

The crowded Neitherworld waiting room with no shrunken heads or witty discourse 

Just the cold embrace of the truth and the mirror staring back at you. 

Lost are the gentile days of long mornings and easy talks. 

Swallowed and regurgitated, 

The endless cycle with too many parts in the coward to find the easy way out. 

The mind tears itself in two when it eats itself, 

Holding thoughts in diametric opposition that crush all others under its weight. 

The grime of yesterday never gets clean, 

Its slow movements spreading across your thoughts touching each in turn. 

The quite voices pick once again, 

To many years in the darkness has left them hungry, 

A life of feeding the wrong wolf.  

Feelings don’t become words they are clobbered into submission and in the cross analysis do not stand up to scrutiny. 

The counterbalance to logic is relentless, 

Needing no sustenance, it feeds of itself only growing stronger off your weakness. 

Enduring hopes lock ever opens; 

It has no key only apparitions pointing to lonely roads. 

I envy the ability in some to surrender to life, 

But that learned behavior dies quick under the boot of years of conditioning. 

What is the future 

When the present is the past 

And the past is a nightmare. 

Curds & Whey

It’s the how without the why, 

You’re the unrequited future, 

The closed door. 

I follow the idiots mistake filled with three parts fool and one part jack rabbit. 

The backwards game that always ends before it begins. 

My broken strings only play sour notes leading to grasping at shadows that fade at the touch. 

Lived through to many winters to walk the empty roads leading to nowhere, 

It’s what happens when one is left with nothing left to give, 

Only the soul left to find to place in line for the chopping block. 

The empty cup offered up, again and again, a beggar's trade. 

A tattered heart has no home and finds no shelter. 

It would seem only the lost find each other, 

The chance encounters yet unable to recognize one another when they pass. 

Without resolve one becomes lost in the moment that never returns, 

The dream of infinite tomorrow’s that became yesterday’s regret. 

Never confused for Don Juan, or Don Quixote. 

When you burn hot it overheats the mind, 

Leaving the mouth grasping for words that never come and what does come out sideways and bitter to the ear. 

A chest full of skeletons is enough to keep anyone at bay.

It’s a fool’s errand, after tasting it once I can’t stop myself for pray that lighting strikes twice; it’s nectar which leaves all other taste rancid in the mouth. 

Only the blind, deaf, and dumb walk in the direction of the unwanted.

Chasing Windmills

It’s the shattered kiss that never was,

Footprints trod away from closed windows as living whispers disappear in the winds of tomorrow.

Caged inside the fathomless depths

Chasing the inverse goal with blackened eyes from sudden impact that bleed into the whole.

Days dissolve into oblivion

Where only Nietzsche eyes could see past its abyss,

The shadows stay but then never leave,

Only asking for the blood drained from the long slow flaying of the mind's eye.

Direction can’t be found when you drown yourself in empty pools of yesterdays.

They say the strong tree stands against the wind,

But I have found that it is the flood that eats away at the roots

Cutting through the tough bark exposing the empty hallow within.

The longing for light still crouches beneath the vision

Leaving nothing as it passes empty rooms

Where cobwebs replace the laughter,

Trading gold for penny’s

Where its price is never paid

And the only door is closed.

Forlorn Life

The deeper the comment the more one loses,

The more that is sipped away from the body,

A devil’s trade,

Blood for blood.

Torn down and rebuilt,

Split down the middle with nothing left.

You watch with a doctor’s mind,

Detached,

The errant thoughts beg for mercy.

The sum does not equal the whole,

The straight path became bent and crooked,

Lost in the backward miles

The unfettered mind cutting down what stands against it.

Your jagged remains stitched into itself,

A second skin,

Tight and narrow at the seams,

A descent that should impress even Dante.

Lost on the other side of the looking glass,

When you drink too deeply of the never-ending loss its tumor houses itself where your mind had dwelt in the stupid years of happy slumber.

Metal knows metal,

Like a river finds the ocean,

Broken pieces go once more into the forge

Its unbroken cycle shaving off the meat leaving only the hardened bone beneath,

An animated corpse.

With no mind it moves on will and impulse alone,

Lead forward by natures unending force.

The plow of shattered dreams spread forward with each step,

The sweet poison only a mother could love.

The Laughing Tiger

I feel your smile deep in my minds eye,

Hiding under the shadows of thoughts and

In-between solitary silences.

You’re the warning before the fall the,

The laugh at the pain,

The ever-present reminder.

You never lead to good;

Your smile only exposes the unavoidable doors

To rooms ready to shatter

From the heaves and throws of life.

Would be better to have been born without ears

Than to hear your mocking indignation,

I am sure that you wouldn’t be deterred

A malevolence that knows no bounds

Your cup of hemlock always ready for my lips.

I should not have met your silence with my own quiet contentment,

In the interim you took everything but my soul.

Your laugh came back with the blood that wouldn’t end,

The weekly bathroom murder

Unanswered until ashes fill the grave.

No exorcism in this life,

No fiend to be released,

You and I are one. 

Chasing the Dragon

I would have held you till the end of time,

but it ended a day to soon.

 

I’d have buried you in an avalanche of kisses,

but the mountain never fell.

 

The river dried up before it ever got to run;

too few days lost with you in the setting sun.

The forlorn ground lies cracked where our wellspring did pour,

its vessel sweats, overfilled gone its spicket

lacking even Liza’s bucket to release what's trapped within.

 

Each new day a fleeting symphony,

I watch them as they pass,

held in comparison against the mirror of the past.

It’s not the model but its principles pouring a foundation built to last.

I prefer the stoic’s life if without loves unending flame,

with only the mere passing sparks of beauty it dies upon the vine.

A life is built of sterner stuff and needs a corner stone that’s true.

 

I don’t dally in the passing trifle or the romantic interlude,

I am no summer soldier

the heart is not hung upon the shelf,

it’s fashioned like a bayonet and always pointing out.

 

Each year in solitude is better than a single moment in a life that’s lived untrue. 

Should Have

The end should have come for us both 

and not left me, 

burning at each end candles don’t last forever. 

Pathetic cowards dance before each step displaying their yellow brick road leading to empty promises and broken homes. 

A plate fixed for fools, 

spread out on a table with no end, 

its legs broken and lost under the weight of the lost and forgotten moments that build a home standing barren and shattered. 

Hung heads march toward the dawns new doom rising behind the veneer of a clean life, 

wrung out empty like a stone lost in the endless wind of time.

Spinning Pain into Love

To consume each other’s dreams

And them become them,

Binary stars forever falling

Into each other.

The sharp contrast

Between black and white

And color.

Learning to know you

As one knows thyself,

The sweet gentle warmth

Without end.

Trust without fear,

Love without pain;

A world painted in each other’s desires

Our private Dyson sphere.

Where the waters never bitter,

The tense storms bed down

Just as they arise,

Leaving only the sweet mist of desire

And the deep inevitable growth

That pulls two souls into one.

Hearts bound in vibranium,

Impregnable from the outside,

Each absorbing the other.

The endless embrace

 that absorbs into sleep

Giving birth to tomorrow’s dreams

And the sweet promise of better days.

 

Once gone, you find yourself

Grasping at seductive shadows

Losing form at your approach

Smiles turn to fangs when your back turns.

Heavy steps lead away

Back into the darkness,

Anything less would be death.

Silent Shadow Boxing

It’s the empty room

Filled with its heavy silene,

The crowd filled room

And no one to share with.

Thoughts left bottled on shelves,

Like so many unread books

Their seeds turning to ash 

Before touching the ground.

Words lay unspoken

With no heart to hear them,

No blending of paint,

The mind’s eye lays empty

Hanging on yesterday’s whispers.

Tomorrow’s flowers wilt with no sun,

Their shared tending left neglected

Only feeding the empty sorrow

From shuttered doors

In the days gone byes warmth.

The shattered jewel’s pieces

Are horded like a miser

Looking toward the gordian knot

Hidden in the smiles shadow.

The cold of the future spilling into the now.

Elven Enchantress

Trapped in the gloaming

Wishing for a new day

Knowing only night.

I eat my sin, regurgitate it, and eat it again.

Your most perfect shadow

Poisons all it touches,

A black mirror sown into my skin,

It burns at the frays

With blackened tips

I greet the world

The grate fake.

Broken spinning wheel,

Its magic spent

An empty house collapses

Leaving only graveyards in its wake.

A cold bed worse than the tomb

Sickens the mind,

No doors only broken windows.

Α & Ω = ∞

Utopia

Sweet thoughts turn sour on the tongue

Poising all it touches,

The bitter pill never goes down,

Instead languishing in the mind’s eye.

No road less traveled,

The sharp brambles of the untaken paths

Cut and entangle dreams

Bringing them to heel

As they cower on their knees

Devouring unspent tears from yesterday’s sun.

Wild strawberries now overgrown

Lay unpicked with bowels long rusted

No tiny hands to hold them.

The smell of the albatross masked

With each new morning’s dawn

That churns out empty hope for the

Last leap home.

Claddagh

The crack that lets light in,

No hinges or a lid.

Light serves no purpose

As life’s gravity well

Eats all it touches.

Broken instruments

Make little sound

Only the death moan

Of the lost orchestra

Singing to the dream

Of Eurydice.

Living in Plato’s cave,

Chains forged from

Warm bodies embrace

In years of spring mornings and

Warm summer afternoons.

Hot nights in white satin

Replaced with the long slow bleed

As years are peeled away

Exposing only the black core

Lying beneath.

A forgotten language

Leaves dust on the tongue,

Sweet kind eyes

Stir the deep forgotten thoughts

Strangled in their crib

Before given legs to run.

Tomorrow came a day to soon. 

Home

 Memories circle like sharks,

The eyes of the abyss

Peering through me

Shattering all it touches.

Thoughts dissipate

Into the air

With exhaled smoke

Replaced with the cold fear

Of a new day.

A life squandered

Has no chrysalis,

It grows chunks

Like milk left out to long

It goes down hard

With fire on the tongue.

Sad little parts

Choked into submission

To make way for

The new Home.

Maw of Love

Your clothes

No longer hold your sent.

No gentle kisses

Can wake you now.

Empty slipper

With no feet to fill them.

The albatross

Tugs me down to drown

Into Tantalus pool.

Ambrosia turned to ashes

In the mouth,

No life outside the hermit’s villa

Only statues from medusas gauze.

Left with just my pale horse

To keep me company

Lost is your gentle touch

Across my brow.

Beyond view from Dante,

An inferno just my own.

Left with no melody,

Just the wind and rain

No fiddle to play it on.

The weekends deafening silence

Devoid of sweet suggestions,

The bitter reality

The only truth;

Each day’s march

Follows the next

Into the mouth of the sun,

Where melted wings

Burn

In the cold of the night,

Each breath is not your own.

Tears on my Lips

 I sleep in your death bed 

I taste your last kiss on my lips. 

Haunted with apparitions 

of Christmas past. 

I promised you, 

failed no action taken, 

still frozen 

your tears still moist 

on my fingertips. 

No more secret walks on the beach. 

No more hot morning coffee. 

Your ashes look down on me, 

they never put your ring with you 

it rests on top. 

I can only remember 

it resting on your finger. 

There was so much more 

that was left unfinished. 

Like echoes in an empty room 

it fills my head 

all the words I failed to say, 

each time I wasn’t their to hold you. 

I learned how to live with loss 

but you were just to much. 

King Moonracer

 

Unceasing, unending, 

no way out, 

no way up. 

Where is Polaris 

when there is no sky, 

is life, life 

when all that is life 

is lost. 

What is you purpose when 

God takes it all away. 

How does one find more 

when there is nothing left. 

I saved all the tears 

for when you left and 

now they never end.

To Mega Therion

 

Flesh still on the bone, 

chuckles in the shadows 

alone is not alone. 

At the fringes, hiding 

just out of view 

a hunger never satiated. 

It lingers in the crease 

between asleep and awake, 

jeering from the sidelines. 

A friend that is not a friend. 

its sticky sheen dripping 

from your skin, 

filling every pore, 

each step covering more. 

It can’t be tamed  

won’t be calmed 

biting the hand that feeds. 

No Rest

Mirror, Mirror

 Lost in purgatory, 

sorrows never ending kiss 

each day a new tommorow 

caught in yesterday. 

A pathetic shameless shell 

the fractured reflection 

of what once was. 

Promises break with no sound 

leaving only jagged blackholes 

fiercely eating all thats left, 

till only death remains.

The Doppelgangers Kiss

 I don’t know how to end it,

churning sorrow into anger

there are no open doors

only empty hallways

leading nowhere.

I dance with your bones

in our temple of sorrow

there are no open doors,

windows boarded

with each though left unsaid

now empty kindness in the dark.

Lost in deaths reprieve

no homes built on your ashes,

caught in loves frozen bed.

No breadcrumbs lead to safety,

no dawn to break the night.

I thought I knew what darkness was…

shards

 here is where I am.

You were the spark that lit my world.

Empty does it no justice.

All of it was only for you.

What are you when your purpose dies?