Devil in Blue Eyes

Can the devil reside in those sparkling blue eyes?
Can your empty truths be telling me lies?

Can this love be real, when I can see in your soul,
that all our diamonds have turned to coal?

Your breath, so warm and soft, it tears me apart.
Your voice, strong and gentle, cuts to my heart.

Love is just another four letter word,
as fleeting to you as a summer bird.

So why proclaim yourself falsely? Why destroy
what you once loved so fondly? Am I only a toy?

Can any love be left in the hearts of the dead?
Can any truth be found within this tangle of web?

Can I find what once lay behind those sparkling eyes?
A truth that once mattered more than the lies.

A breath apart

Gently, he covered her ears, as if he meant to protect her from the world's voices. He waited a moment, then continued to gently cradle her head so that their lips met. His breath was soft against her burning cheek, his lips grazing against her flushed skin. His caress tenderly drifted over her face, his eyes locked on her own sparkling orbs. Intoxicated by his arms, she felt as though her limbs had been inspired with liquid fire, racing through her veins at a break-neck speed.

Within his embrace she felt secure, holding him tightly, unwilling to let go. Carefully he disentangled their fevered beings, allowing the space to grow between them. Soon the space began to fill with things that had never mattered before, things that would never matter again. It grew until they were unable to reach across the divide, their fingertips barely grazing. It continued to grow until she could no longer see him across the expanse, it grew until she could no longer recognize him.

Alone, he wondered how they got there. How could one moment cause such a rift? They had opened themselves up to the universe, experienced what only the soul could appreciate. He imagined a bridge, drawing them closer, pulling her back into his arms. They had opened themselves up so that they had disappeared. She finds something in another man's arms, though inside she knows it isn't the same. She searched, never finding what she missed, knowing that it will never be in this fling's kiss. What once inspired fire only inspires icy pain.

In chairs, facing back to back, he reaches for her hand. He finds only empty air. He lets on tear escape, though he knows big boys don't cry. She reaches for his heart, but finds it locked, she fumbles for a key and finds none are there. She screams into the silence, knowing deep inside that he can't hear. She stands behind the glass, watching him pass her by, knowing that nothing can fix the emptiness, knowing she once loved him. He pauses a moment, glancing back to see her clawing at her glass cage, knowing he can't reach her, knowing he once loved her.

Now all that exists for him is the ache in his heart, the dull pain in those arms that crave her. The metallic click hardly resonates, barely moves him. The flash of heat, iron melds with bone, searing his nerves in pain and blood. He slumps in his chair, his eyes flutter, his last thought is on her. All that mattered disappeared with him, she wonders if it was ever there to begin with. The scrape of wood against wood sends a final shiver down her spine, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She struggles to breathe, the lights within begin to flicker. Her mind is on him.

Separated by an ocean's expanse and only a breath apart.

Echo

  The moon, shaped like a Cheshire cat's smile,
hung low in the twilight sky. A single silver star
is her only companion tonight.
   All the parts of life's plays are winding  down to just an
elegant phrase, not but pieces of sunset poetry
and misty eyes.
   The willow's monologue drifts lazily on the breeze, her
weeping arms straining to hold him in place. Loving
fingers caress his beautiful face.
   In love with his own face, he ignores those gentle caresses,
that straining embrace. Loved by only an echo, he wastes
away, eyes closing in this final scene, this last act.
   Allowed only to repeat, her own voice lost in his soliloquy. No
monologue for her, cursed, no true love or own verse. She
fades into the Cheshire cat's smile, alone on a bruised twilight night.

The Viper's Flute

From ivory bone carved, dulcet whispers permeate the still air.
In sweetest poisons forged, notes dripping with forgotten blood.
By dead men's lips played, kissed with a venom most hypnotic
and buried without name.

About the knife-like fangs entwined, cadence flows gently on.
Tension rises, breath shallows, hollowed hearts flood with
the crescendo. Sweeter fly the notes, arrant and passionate,
filling every crevice and every mouth with honeyed disease.

Ethereal music swiftly plays, summoning angels and demons to
dance. Glittering like diamonds ablaze, it swells. Embraced by
a magic undefined and cursed by the Goddess that all who
touch must die.

Bound to the enchantment by force unseen, by the music captured.
To be kissed by Death's decaying lips and sway in dreamless
depths of silk. The price, kingdoms of hearts to pay. To breathe
darkest perfumes that only the viper's flute can play.

The Witch's Harp

Once upon a time, in a land long forgotten by time, there lived a man who had two daughters. The older daughter was very beautiful, with long blood red spiral curls and flawless ivory skin that seemed to glow in any light. Around her neck she wore a jasper sand dollar, given to her by her father as an early wedding present as she was soon to be wed. The younger daughter was beautiful as well with pale green eyes and dark hair, but she was very selfish and greedy.

Now the man to whom the oldest was to be married was a very rich man. He was so very rich that he lived in a Crystal Castle on a cliff by the sea, waited on hand and foot by many servants and owned most of the forests that grew in their country. Not only this, but he was a very handsome man and well known through out the land for his intellect and wit. It came about one day, the youngest daughter became very jealous of her sister and desired to wed the groom herself.

One day, just before the older sister was to wed, the younger convinced her to go for a picnic deep in the forests that lay beyond the Crystal Castle by the sea. Hesitantly, the older agreed to the picnic and followed as her younger sister traveled into the woods. They traveled deeper and deeper and deeper still, so that the older sister began to fear that they would lose their way and be torn apart by wild animals. Thinking quickly, she took a one ribbon from one of the braids in her long crimson hair and tied it around a tree branch. And, as they journeyed on, she continued to remove ribbons from her braided hair to tie around the trees. As she was tying one ribbon she began to sing softly,

"This day am I, ribbons I leave, the trail to find. My sister is beautiful, though her soul is intent to kill. Her deepest wish that I shouldst die. Weep for me, soft nightingale."

"What are you singing fair sister?" asked the younger.

"I was only singing of what a beautiful day this will be." replied the older sister and she removed another ribbon to mark the way.

Finally, the younger sister stopped and began to lay out the picnic. When she was finished she looked up to see that her sister's hair was loose and flowing, jealousy sparked inside her and she asked,

"Why, sister, what has happened to your ribbons so that your hair is loose and apt to be tangled by the wind?"

I feared we would lose our way, so I tied my ribbons to tree branches so that we might find our way back to the Crystal Castle." she replied, seating herself on the blanket.

"Ah, what a clever sister have I." said the false sister. "But come now, let us eat and enjoy the day before we must return to your husband's house."

As the day waned and the sun began to set, the sisters began to pack away their picnic so that they might head home quickly before dark fell upon the forest. When they had finished packing, the younger turned to the older and went toward her as if to embrace her. But just as the older's arms wrapped about her sister's waist, she felt a sharp pain in her chest and looked down to see a beautiful dagger buried inside of her. Her eyes grew wide in pain as she stumbled and fell back, the dagger's jeweled hilt stained with her blood.

Swiftly, the younger sister removed the dagger and began to hack away at her sister's white dress, shredding it as a wild animal would. Then she rubbed some of her sister's blood on her own clothing and face, slashing at her own arms and dress so that it looked as if she, too, had been attacked. Yanking the jasper pendant off of her sister's neck she ran back to the Crystal Castle, following the ribbons that her sister had left to mark the path.

Upon arriving at the Crystal Castle, the sister threw open the doors screaming and crying that her sister had been killed. The man of the house and her father came running to her, catching her as she began to collapse to the floor. Once she came out of her faint, she told them a story of how they had gone for a picnic and were attacked by wild animals as they tried to make their way home. She cried many false tears as she related that her sister was dead, producing the stained sand dollar pendant as proof of her lies.

At her proof, the two men began to weep. News spread quickly through out the kingdom of the oldest daughter's death and the whole of the kingdom mourned for her sake.

A year and a day  after she murdered her sister, the younger was in her room preparing for her wedding to the owner of the Crystal Castle. Around her neck hung her sister's jasper pendant, still slightly stained with the blood of it's previous owner. While she combed out her long dark hair, a knock sounded on the heavy doors of the great hall, just below her room. Quickly, she ran down the stairs to open the doors.

At the door stood a beggar woman, her blood red curls ratted and matted with leaves and twigs, her skin ashen and thin. In her hand she held a flower with a single black pearl embraced lovingly by the blood red petals. Wordlessly, she held it out to the younger sister, gesturing for her to take it. At first the younger woman seemed hesitant, then, with eyes full of greed, the younger sister took the flower. The beggar woman smiled, then began to sing,

"This day am I, ribbons I leave, the trail to find. My sister is beautiful, though in her soul is intent to kill. Her deepest wish that I shouldst die. Weep for me, soft nightingale."

The younger sister stood still a moment, her memory flooded with her sister's dying image. She flushed and looked at the woman before her, stamped her foot and angrily asked,

"How come you by that song beggar woman?"

"This way and that way, beautiful child. I learned it upon my harp." Then out from under her cloak, the beggar woman  pulled a beautiful and fragile harp, one that looked as though it was made from the finest bone in all the world. The strings of this harp were long strands of gold, set in the frame with blood red pearls, the beggar woman smiled then, her toothless mouth gleaming in the lights from the hall. Tenderly, she touched a string, the soft tone of it almost sounded like weeping.

"You are a witch." cried the younger sister, covering her ears with her hands. She dropped the flower to the floor and as it fell it transformed into her sister, dressed in her white dress with a black cloak wrapped about her.

"No, sister," said the older. "I am the witch. When you left me to die in the forests alone, a wizard happened upon me. He healed my wounds and taught me magic. He then transformed me into the flower you so coveted, and brought me here for my revenge." With that, the beggar woman transformed into a tall man with long ivory hair and ebony skin. In his left hand was a white staff and in the other was the enchanted harp.

Taking the harp in hand, the witch strummed lightly, the strings pulling the younger sister closer.

"Come sister, don't you want to dance?" laughed the witch, playing a jaunty tune upon the harp.

The younger could not help but move, her hips swaying to the music, her feet merrily following in time. The witch played faster so that the younger sister's feet moved more swiftly, their own power dragging the girl across the crystal floors of her Crystal Castle. She covered her ears, screaming at the top of her voice, so that she might drown out the horrible sounds of the harp. For, because of her guilt, the music was instead the voice of Death singing of her dying moments.

The witch laughed and played ever faster, her wizard joining in on a silver violin. The two played as the younger twirled about so fast that she could not breathe. No longer able to with stand the enchantment, the sister threw herself out of one of the windows, flinging herself to the jagged rocks below. Her body was then eaten by the wolves of that country, leaving nothing behind but the jasper pendant.

Gently, the witch slowed her song to a mournful tune, her wizard slowing to match her. When the song finally ended, the harp disappeared along with the violin to some place that is not known to man. The wizard moved toward the witch, his hand sliding under her cloak so that it was pushed aside. And there, where her ribs should have been was nothing but emptiness. He grazed her face with one of his hands, as gently and tenderly as any lover, and watched as her soul passed from her decaying body and into the sky.

Closing Doors

I
can
see why
you turn away.
Why you close a
door when we kiss. I
want you to love me, want
you to hate me. Destroy me,
you know you can. Baby, sigh
or cry, break me or fuck me. I
don't care, take me and make
me yours. Why won't you look at
me anymore? What have I done to
end this beautiful love that we had? Scar
me, rape me, tie me up and strike me.
Just love me again, make me love you too.

Untouched

The walls are broken, the stairs are misshapen.
The windows flood with broken bits of light.
The shadows fall down, their blood is binding,
captive inside barren rooms.

She creeps down the halls, faded portraits and
withered flowers grace the crumbling wallpaper.
She barely breathes, afraid that breathing might
destroy what is left of this facade.

The dimming lights from forgotten lampposts
glitter in her dreamless dreams. She can't
speak, breathing cerise in an ivory womb.
Faint lines speak of what lies underneath her.

Her confliction takes on flesh, it grows limbs.
It gains heft and vigor, it seems to live as
she has lived. A fire cackles, like a burning
witch's last farewell, a spark of being.

The roof is crestfallen, the doors crucified to
their posts. The hall is filling with water,
the rooms echo with the sound of drowning
shadows and ethereal cries for help.

She remains untouched, dancing within the
brackish guilt that floods the rafters of her
reality. The cadence of each step, aching and
yearning for release from her magical chains.

Fucked Up

Baby, quit fucking with my mind.
You cling to me, saying softly, "mine".
Then you say you don't want me to
just stay for your sake. What about
staying for my own?

Stop holding me so tightly, then
telling me to go! Make up your mind,
do you want me to stay or do you want
me to go?

You say its getting serious, too fast
for your tastes. We are moving to
quickly in your opinions. Do mine even
matter in this instance?

If you don't want to be serious why
did you open the doors? Why did you
pry at my heart's icy chains? If you don't
want this to last forever why play games?

Baby quit fucking with my heart, I'm
not a doll, I have feelings too. Yours are
buried, but mine aren't. So speak,
talk in straight sentences, succinctly and
politely.

I have given you everything I
have to give. Everything I held dear,
everything I was saving up. You say
thank you, then turn away, what
does that mean?!

I'm confused, but I love you so I'll stay.
Not for you, but for my own sake.
I can't leave you behind, not like you
can leave me. I can't forget those arms
that held me, whispering "mine".

The Bald Frog

One day there was a very bald frog who decided to buy a wig. He went to the first wig seller in the town and said, in a puffy frog voice,

"Good sir, I'm in search of a wig. Where should I go to find one?"

The wig seller told him of a pretty young maiden who played by a pond, she made wigs for anyone. So the bald frog went to the fair maiden for a wig.

"Fair maid," he said. "Will you make me a wig?"

"Yes, kind frog," she replied. "Only if you will do me a kindness."

She then asked him to find a pearl ring which she had lost somewhere in the never-ending wheat fields, their amber flooding the countryside of that kingdom.

So the frog went to find this ring. He searched and searched and searched again. But he could not find the ring. So he called upon a field mouse, a raven and a scarecrow to help him.

The field mouse found him a diamond necklace, lost by a princess of Russia.

The raven found a jade fan forgotten by a princess of Asia.

Finally, the Scarecrow found the pearl ring belonging to the maiden who made the wigs.

Upon asking for the ring, the scarecrow replied, "Ah dear frog, you must return this favor I have done for you. Introduce me to this maiden who makes wigs and I will give you the ring."

Seeing that he had no choice the frog took the scarecrow and introduced him to the maiden. Upon first sight the scarecrow fell in love with her. They kissed and the scarecrow was transformed into a handsome prince, one who had been enchanted for seven years.

So thankful were the two that they bestowed as many wigs as the frog could carry.

The end.

Murder of an Angel

The blade slid across her skin, a weeping crimson
mouth yawning against ivory petals. Falling to the floor,
the soft parting of flesh from bone, heart from soul and
body from mind. Into the moon drenched night screams
dissipate, silence never seemed so beautifully broken by
that voice.

Parted, self from self, divided by the voices inside.
The voices that mutilate and destroy, breaking the
halves into quarters and the quarters into tiny masked
moments of time. Masquerading in these satin sheets,
the tiniest pearls building like the tears to the flower.
Bathe in the blood, black butterflies flitter by,
collapsing to the ground, sacrificed in the devil's
name.

Skulls trip down the stairs, blanched by the sun's
cruelest kiss. The moon, a pale ivory disc, dances along
her glittering path. Sensual wisps of perfume fade into
the emptiness, that weeping mouth fading against the
essence of time. Her elbows jut out in awkward
positions, steel scrapes bone, the subtle depth
of the soul, shattered by man's tools.

Crossed swords, starlit voids and death shoulders the
burden. Evisceration lies in the wake, the waves
receding from the beaten shores. Lucifer hangs upon
a jasper crucifix, a fiery crown adorns his wicked
head. His followers stand about him, string ebony
pearls along the path of devastation. Crucified in sins
to shameful to name, wallowing in the mire that is.

Stand broken in Hell, the scars of forgotten skin and
soulless eyes stark against the landscape.

The Devil's Bitch

All I hear are the devils screaming in my ear,
trying to drag me down, trying to help me drown.
I hear them singing that awful song,
and I know, I know it won't be long.
I will join them soon, nothing else to do.
Let them chain my wrists, I was always their bitch.

Holding On

He held her hands, walked with her and held her.
He held her hands, taught her how to shoot,
taught her how to ride. Rough and strong, he
taught her about life. He showed her love, a father's
love, strong and pure.

He held her hand, the night they thought she
would die, caressed the twisted and bruised skin.
He held her hand when they told her that she
would never bear children, never have life born
from her body.

He held her hand, the day he gave her away.
Watching with tear-bright eyes as she changed her
name. Grinning from ear to ear, swelled with pride.
He held her hand, the day she got the news.
He held her, shaking and crying, to broken to stand.

He held her hand, when she passed away. His
little girl, leaving the world, even the sun seemed to
weep. He saw the truth in his child, in her smile, the
way she walked and talked. He would miss her, but
he would hold her hand when he came into eternity.

Halcyon

Is my beloved dead? Does his heart lie still upon the shores?
Has he left me to travel to the Elysian fields and ne'er return?
I am Halcyon, restless bird upon roughened waves, searching
and wandering, calling for my lover.

Ceyx, my Ceyx, why hast thou left your faithful wife? Drown'd
upon forsaken oceans, washed upon star-swept shores?
Sinking slowly, the satin soft waters filling my thirsty lungs in
place of air. Still searching for your still form in these tepid seas.

Our bodies touch, warmth to chill. Your eyes are closed, pale
and bruised visage, so delicate in death. I am entranced and
embraced by Pluto's arms, he is ready to take us both. I will
follow where ye shall go, I shall rest where ye shall choose to lie.

Oh Gods, give him back to me. Let the air return to drenched
lungs and movement back to empty bones. Please don't let our
love end like this. Take pity and return us to life, please. Take
his hand in mine, close my eyes, let this coffin of water bury us.

I am Halcyon, drowned for love. Born again a bird, flying o'er
the seas in which I met my doom. Ceyx, my lover and husband,
a bird too, never far from me. Floating upon my father's breath,
adrift these restless waves for eternity.

Triggers

Pull the trigger, baby,
I'll be your gun.
Slit my throat, sweetheart,
I promise not to cry.

This has to be the most
beautiful betrayal,
exquisitely executed in
every way imaginable.

My heart lies, drawn
and quartered, upon
the snowy earth. Your
love does that to me.

This heart, that loved
you so reverently, who
knew it could die? Poisoned
love, honeyed lies.

Tainted darling, caressed
by dying eyes. That this
betrayal was lost upon my
soul I would give the world.

You slit my throat, I
promised not to cry.
You pulled the trigger
just to watch me die.

Abused Farewells

Bruised flesh where his lips once cradled her skin.
Fingerprints where his hands had once been.
Torn into pieces, he loved her more, alive in his heart.
His mind, not grasping the depth of what has happened.

She runs from his touch, his caress. That sensation
that used to lull her to sleep, used to give her peace
suddenly breaks her heart. She left him, left for a
man who never cared, never loved her, only abused her.

Now she lies still, the cuts have worn her soul thin.
The black eye was from a fall, the broken arm an
accident. Nothing was his fault, she never blamed
him. Why did she leave the one that truly loved her?

He sits in the front row, tear streaked face, watery
lime green eyes littered with unsaid goodbyes. He
can't help but think that he let her die. And all those
missing memories, fall together and fly.

"Death be not happy," he whispers. "Taken angel,
fly." He gives her the rose, his last goodbye. And
for a moment, permitted this small gift, her frozen
lips, pull into one final smile.

Therein Lies Madness

Banish the demons of nights wasted and forgotten.
Forget I ever met you, or gazed upon your visage.
I wish I could remember the times when love lay within.
Herein forever-more only lies Madness.

Insanity wrapped her arms about my ragged shoulders,
breathing her sweeter poisons into my blood.
I guess that's what happens when the dark claims you.
Grasp the air in hungry fists, too full of moonlight's blood.

Now I am made of china, cracked and chipped,
a doll that has long been abandoned. The bones are
brittle, the taste of irony and semen spill out of my
lips. Who knew dolls could be violated and spoiled?

Standing up, my bones are shattered, my blood is
tainted with your impurities. Your needles are on the
floor, the bite marks imprinted on the skin around
the stains.

The apple rolls away from her perfect lips, that one
bite seals her fate. She is china too, except she is
perfect. Behind those violet eyes lies the madness in
my soul, creeping up behind to steal us both.

Ebony flakes of thought flutter down to us, trapped
like black butterflies in glass jars. Our tears wrap
crystal arms about the hour-glasses, shaped by our
destinies entwined and adored by lust.

Puppets on our strings, dancing to music that no one
can hear. Therein lies our madness, the drugs fill
our veins, catalyzed by the pain. Morphed by caged
butterflies and forbidden desires.

Tomorrow will be Brighter (for Pomegranate)

She is standing on the brink. Afraid to jump in,
afraid to continue standing still. Life is passing her fast,
rushing past in blurry pink and crimson moments.
Letting go is harder than she thought,
confused a moment and desperate for a reason.

Maybe it would be easier to shut herself away,
hide from the world's crueler pastimes. Admit she died,
admit that the world crumbled around her. Admit wrong,
confess love, die peacefully, in harmony with the pain.
Maybe tomorrow will be brighter, prettier than this.

Dreaming of moments not tinged in ebony highlights,
she hopes and she prays. Is it possible to leave emptiness?
What's the point? Is there one? Or do we just exist?
Music will continue to play, lovers will continue to dance,
but where will they go when the moments are over?

Beauty sleeps on her satin bed, beside roses lie dead.
A tender kiss upon forgotten lips, she won't wake again.
Molten emotions singe the clock's unfeeling hands,
grasp the falling stars and ride them down to Hell's open gate.
Awake to the brighter tomorrow, stolen from Hate.

Evisceration

Her eyes are oozing with honeyed sins. Things she keeps forgotten inside.
They are eating her inside out, pulling out the darkness through dripping fangs.
She clings to the mirror, gazing at her horrendous visage as the sins come
to the surface. Dorian Gray's beautiful protege, transformed into a monster.

The lights twirl above her, they make no sense. The voices are screaming,
she tries to push them out. Tries to make them be quiet. Her mind is twisting,
she can't think, can't breathe. Chained and mutilated by the consequences of
living this life.

Her body is ripped apart, eviscerated and gaping. The inner-workings
of her frame burst open, blooming like bloody flowers against ivory skin. She
is emptied onto the floor, spilling love and sin over everything. Staining what
was once perfection's finest.

Rain Falls

Dancing, alone in the dark and forsaken by time.
The rain is falling, hard and fast, pushing me down.
The drops are needles that stab and tear me up.
How could such a beautiful day suddenly turn gray?

The curtain is closing, sweetheart. Take a bow, this
show is over, I can't take anymore. We were so
perfect together, so beautiful despite the ugliness
around us. But that's gone now, wasted and forgotten.

We are left in the dark, the emotions left open and
stark. We are so naked, lying back in gilded cages,
content to live our lives in captivity. If only we didn't
have to breathe, maybe we could survive this life.

Time Wasted

Wilting flowers dance on restless winds.
Bending, nearly broken, submissive and
silent. They have no voice, no reason to
fight what may happen. She stands,
perfectly still, bending and nearly broken
by the winds of time. She is submissive
and silent, having no voice of her own.
She has no strength for a fight.

Suspended in space, her wings forgotten
behind her in time wasted. Sands may
rise, carried by the torrents of air and
loved by the body of earth, but it was
time wasted. No point in living if all that
you love is broken.

Wilting angel, her mind shattered and
spread out to the four corners of earth.
She has spent these years trying to find
a meaning to this life she is living. Peace
empties us into War's lap, leaving the
toys of time behind, leaving without any
choice.

And we stand, blinded like Justice, our
hands raised to the sky. We say it was
worth our while, that it wasn't wasted
time. But what is worthwhile? What is
the point of a wilted angel on a dying hill,
entombed by moonrise and moonset,
buried by sky and empty starlit eyes?

Can time really stand still, her arms open
and ready to take us in? We've wasted
her while she was here and she won't ever
come again.

In Love with You

My arms crave you,
my body hungers for you,
my whole being calls out for yours.

Soul craves soul, devoured by need.
Heart hungers for heart, embraced by want.
Mind calls to mind, blinded by this longing.

How can I breathe without air?
How can this thirst be quenched?
I am yours, possessed and caged,
gladly, behind the bars of your love.
You are mine. Bound; heart to heart,
soul to soul, mind to mind. One.

I neither crave, or desire, any other but
you. How can one be forced back into
two separate beings?

I crave your kiss.
I hunger for your body next to mine.
I cry out for you. Beseechingly, I
call your name.

Come back to the heart that
loved you first and most.

Disfigured

Your love disfigures me. Slashes at my wrists,
lets the blood pour like precious jewels down my
arms. It breaks my bones, tears them down and
builds them back only to tear them down again.

Your love kills me. Wrapping strong hands about
my neck, applying pressure until all the air is gone
and my lips are turning blue. You're suffocating me,
please just forgive me. Why must we go on like this?

Must I be broken to be whole enough for you to
love me? Must I beg? Must I plead? Will blood
staining this love pay the price to earn back your love?
I don't have enough blood to give, or I'd give it.
I have repented, over and over again, why can't you forgive me?

Embraced

I cried your name, but you did not answer. I wept tears for your sake,
but you didn't care. What a strange pain this is within me, one that will
not fade, but grows with each passing day. You have that affect on me,
making my heart beat weaker and weaker, 'til not a sound can be heard
from my chest. Oh well, we all have to say goodbye right? Some days
will be better than others, some moments harsher, but this will subside
into placid forever.

You don't believe in myths, but baby I'm a myth in itself. You don't
believe in fate, then this is not meant to be. I hate your games, the way
you play with my heart like its a toy. I hate your smile, so maliciously
delicious that I want to drink of its poison by the hour. Baby, I think I
need your arms, to hold me steady. Ignore the cracks in the mask, roses
are the only facade left to this harlequin.

Desperate times call for ridiculous measures of pure thought and pure
mind. Purity is something I don't possess much of. Just a few pieces of
fading ivory, webbed in bloody dreams. You know, your eyes are green,
greener than the fields of tall growing grass. Lush and thick, full of beauty
and lies. No way you love this all to solid flesh. Bizarre things drift on this
merciless sea of dreams, make the waves stop rocking, cause I'm getting
sick. All that will remain are the constants.

Your leaving me here, left to my own devices. Driven to insanity by the
loss of your honeyed lips. Baby, lets forget it, spider's can't have wings
and I can't fly on the broken dreams. Take my hand, slip that band of ice
around it. We'll be frozen together and alive apart. How lovely, that we
divorce.

Soul torn from soul, heart torn asunder from heart, one body torn into
two, once again we are alone. I don't want to die in this yellowed picture,
fading faster than the glows of those last charcoals. Whisper the lies once
again, and lets die in each other's shattered arms. Be one for one last
moment before we are no more.

Oasis Thin

Bent, made to break and be broken, a
stunned hush over all the pieces. Rose
petals, stained in blood, the Dragon has
called in his debt. Follow the jeweled body
down to the tips, frozen emeralds and
shattered ivory rubies scattered about her
hips.

Almond shaped eyes, colorless and
lifeless, flicker, struggling to regain some
semblance of consciousness. The stones
are rising to the surface, made weightless
by time's erosions, immersed in a
decadent veil of lies. Crescent moon
shines, the light spearing the darkened
night.

Slender fingers, meant for ivory keys, try to
grasp the last bits of life slipping through
this bloodied web. The veins seep love,
now dead from broken hearts and shattered
souls. A wire, held taught, drawing out
pain's violence to frenzied and frayed
nerves.

Wicked mouths, stained with the virescent
blood of autumn's leaves. Forgotten lovers,
blanched bones deserted by the Summer's
heat. Honeyed knives to cleave the soul,
render the mind cold as stone. Break the
bones in ebony quilts and shatter spirit's
womb.

Vanilla colored flowers drift down the
stream, the cool waters, iridescent in the
light of a burning moon. Stained liquid flows
about the interruption of its harmony. The
necessary means to the appropriate ends.
Here we will stand, frozen at the gates of
Hell's rebirth. Statues to guard the secrets
of silence.

hide your mind (for fawn)

She's bleeding black and pink,
sharp ribbons of broken textures
falling all about. The wires
are exposed, let the machines twist
your brain. The spiders escape the
mind's eye, twisted webs that capture
and rape the silence's bruised butterfly.

She's bleeding crimson and blue,
strange hues, merging and changing
from two into one. She's falling in
love with the man, a lemoned ice
cream passing between a decade of
lonesome longing.

She's bleeding green. Its a final moment
she knows, she can't let go. Its okay,
moments like these were meant to
last. Forget everything, a honeyed blade
cuts the skin. Scanners take her mind,
drag the memories out one by one.

She's bleeding lemon. Escape the body,
let it out. Flames engulf her, this sadness
won't last long. Grab hold of the moon,
take it down. The weeping of the guitar at
the loss echoes through the night. This
pink spider has flown.

Not my best piece

I can't say it.
I can't tell you the truth.
I can't.

I love you.
I love the way you smile.
I love.

I hate you.
I hate that you love her.
I hate.

I wish you knew.
I wish I could tell you the truth.
I wish.

Forget me.
Forget you ever heard my name.
Please, forget.

I love you.
I hate you.
I wish you knew.
I can't tell you the truth.

Dead-Man's Gaze

   There they stood. Torn at the seams and broken at the center of it all. She says something he cannot hear, vision is blurring and everything is unclear. He touches her arm, his touch is cold as ice. She tries to shake the pain, brush off his touch, but she can't seem to move now, frozen in time. The bruises don't show, they lie at her soul, bruised where he can't see the damage inflicted.
   She was standing by the door, the dark purple and ivory curls flying about her porcelain face. He was standing on the other side of the door, the tears of lost butterflies burning up the stillness. The rubies were falling in crimson raindrops to the worn wooden floor. They scramble to recover the moments long gone, standing there cringing from the hand of no one.
   He is sitting on the ground, back to the wall, eyes un-blinking. Lifeless man's gaze into the void of broken sunshine. Only a dead man could know the truth. Eviscerated, his hands are missing, his eyes cut from his skull, only the bloody absence remains. They see more than the eyes ever did. Gun-smoke hangs them both, gray crystals encircling their necks and choking the breath from their crushing lungs.
   She gasps, the knife twists between the ribs and the sickening crunch causes her lids to widen. She flutters, a wingless bird trying to fly away. Her black eyes don't close, the sounds of death escaping her soul. Blinded, she finally sees. Hollowed, she is finally full. Chained, she is finally free.
   Severing the cords, they slump together. Putrescent love stories told by blanching bones. He soulless against the wall, she emptied upon the staining wood floor. Twisted and entwined, they rot in the exquisite quiet. Dying butterflies across their ruby lips. Sealed with that morphing kiss, sworn to perpetual silence.

Stolen Breath: Edited

She's sitting on my doorstep. She doesn't have a name.
But she breathes and she cries and she bleeds, just the same.
She is whispering softly to the moon, her pale hands
outstretched, reaching and grasping the sky in broken pieces.

I am sitting on my doorstep. I don't have a name, not anymore.
But I breathe and I cry and I bleed, just the same.
I am whispering softly to the sun, my browned hands outstretched,
reaching and grasping the stained and shattered sky in pieces.

She is sitting in the middle of the road now. Invisible cars
fly by her, not daring to touch those beautiful bruises,
un-willing to break the bubble she has placed herself in.
She is talking loudly now, her voice making the world shake.

I am sitting in the middle of the road now. Infinite amounts of
withering roses scattered about as the cars fly by. I don't dare
touch these beautiful bruises, purple and bloody against bleached
bones that never felt. Un-willing to break the cage that holds me.

I am screaming now, my voice rising and falling in crescendos
that have lost their meanings in the middle of twilight.

She is crying now, her mouth a bleeding slit against the
white darkness. Freedom isn't free, she cries. Love is never
true. And we all die before our time, with nothing left to do.

She is lying in the middle of the cemetery. Her clothes left
behind in her agony. She is pure white, blanched bones
scattered about her, against the black earth. She is dying,
trying to flee that mortal frame. Let the crimson fall, translucent
against the emerald greens.

I am crying now, my mouth a sharp knife against the wound
of these skies. Freedom isn't free, I echo. Love is never true.
And we all die before our time, with nothing left to do.
I am lying next to her, we are stark ivory against bloody earth.

The bones seem to sing a haunting lullaby as we close our
eyes against the birth of the moon to a barren sky. We clasp
our hands together. Promising to hold on, no matter what may come.

No matter what may tear us apart. She vanishes from my heart,
not even a whisper of her soul left behind to caress the loneliness.
And we are miles apart, standing a hand's breathe from one another.

She in her dying womb, I in my empty grave. Grasp the silence
with bloody hands, take what is given and leave what is not.

I am alone again. Sitting on my doorstep with only these tremulous
memories.