Here, where the lonely hooting owl
Sends forth his midnight moans,
Fierce wolves shall o’er my carcase growl,
Or buzzards pick my bones.
No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
Or where my ashes lie;
Unless by beasts drawn round their bait,
Or by the ravens’ cry.
Yes! I’ve resolved the deed to do,
And this the place to do it:
This heart I’ll rush a dagger through,
Though I in hell should rue it!
Hell! What is hell to one like me
Who pleasures never know;
By friends consigned to misery,
By hope deserted too?
To ease me of this power to think,
That through my bosom raves,
I’ll headlong leap from hell’s high brink,
And wallow in its waves.
Though devils yell, and burning chains
May waken long regret;
Their frightful screams, and piercing pains,
Will help me to forget.
Yes! I’m prepared, through endless night,
To take that fiery berth!
Think not with tales of hell to fright
Me, who am damn’d on earth!
Sweet steel! come forth from our your sheath,
And glist’ning, speak your powers;
Rip up the organs of my breath,
And draw my blood in showers!
I strike! It quivers in that heart
Which drives me to this end;
I draw and kiss the bloody dart,
My last—my only friend!
Hot kiss in the cold rain.
A steady beat of a pulsing vein.
The fearful calm of the never the same.
The sweet aftertaste of your whispered name.
Two extremes inside one heart.
Living in the bewitched twilight of the after dark.
Made a little brighter by this perfect counterpart.
This perfect flame started by a lover's spark.
The relearning of what it means to mean.
Finding the greatest things on earth in the in between.
It's the transition of real life into a dream.
The infusion of love in this neglected bloodstream.
The perfect play of light on the perfect pair of eyes.
The look of which expels the bitter taste of goodbyes.
It's the safety rope for the deepest self dug holes.
Shes a harbinger of love, the savior of souls.
The North Star, that brightest bit of day.
That little feeling inside of you so you never lose your way.
A radiant hope in this desperate living death.
Every inch of her a place to catch your breath.
Made of the stuff of heaven, part blind trust
and perfect mixture of both love and lust.
It all boils and burns into left with only this...
A simple hot kiss,
in a cold rain.
With love flowing in every vein.
I've been trapped in my silence,
it reflects back my voice.
What the world might say,
how it never would be okay.
Would they ever get to know,
that it wasn't my choice.
My body was touched,
without my consent.
I will never be able to fly away,
will they ever get to know it,
that these chains don't hurt me,
words and taunts do.
They'd never see me,
like they used to.
My folks and my friends,
Oh! These loose ends,
how will I tie them,
with scope of some proof,
I hide in my body,
and I hide in my pain.
I'm trapped in my silence,
with no one to vent.
There's a dark wolf
behind my heart--
ready to feast on the future
and guzzle the night nectar of what will be.
His smokey wings agape,
drawn to fly in to the moon's uvula.
The ash black fur smells of burnt strawberries.
A pale bobcat spectre leans
behind my mind...
smells like a gin bath...
looks over its shoulder
longingly gazing into the murk-muck,
that is.... the past.
Lavender eyes, and patterns of dirt
on its sopping cold fur.
And here I am,
between the two...
a silent meditative fox
under the cherry blossom,
the breezy moment twirls the desert red fur,
nature's hum drums and strums the heart
as it grows into a lotus reaching for the burning sun.
...maybe i'm done trying
maybe i'm the only one who's left fighting
fighting be loved
fighting to be someone
maybe it's time
to face the
that i'll never be
you find more
in your media,
the fact that
i will never enter
maybe it's time
i gave up on me
just as you have.
maybe it is time.
i will never
i will never
maybe you have fallen in love
with the person you wish me to be
maybe who i am
is not who you want to love.
maybe the thought of this being true
terrifies you the most
throws you off your feet
and the fear of the unknown
has you gripped on to my heart
wishing on stars
i will become
who you need.
i never would write until the night fell
you laugh at me from the light
and every smear of honesty
and you stand a thousand stories tall
but i have to leave my shoes
in the door way
the stars arent your eyes any more
they are only the fire
the flame that scorches my rib cage
its as though i payed a mask maker
if everything was in its right place
my reflection wouldnt seemed so skewed
a lemon is a fruit
with every car parked aside the avenue
all lanes free
you can run
in the turn lane
beneath the big sign
that changes colors
that blinds you with its fascism
with its charges against you
that youre given ninety to life for
snuff and beanie weenies
a cats purr
the writings of a mystic
and the mask maker
and a sneeze
to stretch out
to cuddle up
to fail at cartwheels
we cant loose
i hear you cheese over the phone
every single hormone
cresting and waining
here i am
the mind of the eye
or vica verse
if you cant
then i will
colorful blanket of autumn leaves
covered the clearings between the trees
the sound of crackling under my steps
broke the silence in my mind
cold air and a puddle along the road
reminded me of a last night's storm
I walked towards the shallow lake
whose calm surface reflected azure sky
embellished with few translucent clouds
I was amazed by its surreal beauty;
so persistent in its existence
and yet, so deceptively comprehensible,
a thought about the transience of all
suddenly overcame me;
a thought, so profoundly insightful
and sublimely unclear, at the same time
awoke dormant memories
of what has passed and is forever gone...
I threw pebbles in the lake, defiantly,
and watched the ripples distort
almost perfect reflection of reality,
to diminish the overwhelming feeling