They say it’s a curse, disguised as a gift.

An agreement She made with the Devil.
She danced with His darkness, and prayed for departure.
So feet, He had brought,
A treat, so She thought,
She was ready,
no surrender.

A gift’s what He gave Her,
A gift, not an offer.
For this gift bore
“conditions”.

She must suffer all thoughts,
His prisoner of dark,
Given words She must remember!
So He gave Her his pen.
Darkness, returned Her.
With a gift She could bleed,
no surrender.

Yet as He returned Her,
His ‘Secrets’, He gave Her.
The warmth of His breath
still lingers...

She summons His Darkness,
She plays with The Highest.
When Dark is too Dark
She surrenders.

For that’s how She became,
such beauty, yet ugly,
That’s how He bestowed Her-
“Royal Poetess”

What is it?

Comfort from stories you sought comfort before?
Eyes untouched by your demons?
Visions of becoming the best version of yourself?
Hungry ears devouring your stories?

Confusing calm for plain and boring.
Seeking dysfunction.
Problems created existing outside you,
hoping it gets loud enough.
Drowning out what’s within you.
Your soul doesn’t knock anymore?

This void that fed something
Replaced by hunger.
I’m homesick..
I miss you.

Willing misinterpretation of disappointment. Crafted intentions of abandonment.
Disguising what’s yours to retain integrity. You’ve always had your way out plotted. Hiding from the one you showed your duality,

I’ve always known you.
And this is just something you do repeatedly.

Give me your vision
I crafted within you.
I’ll pick up my pen
Your dreams I’ll pursue.

If bloods what you seek
I’ll open my arms.
Is flesh what you want?
**** it, do harm.

**** me Crowley.
Make me moan.
For you see, I worship thee.
Burn me Crowley.
Burn me.

Give me my vision,
You crafted within me.
Deliver me Crowley
I’ll make it my mission.

It sneaks up on you when you least expect it.
You start shivering from within.
You forget,
it’s too overwhelming.

You took a wrong turn,
now your lost.
Can’t say they didn’t warn you.  

The fear is consuming,
as you become still.
For stillness is required to allow you to see.
To see the edge of eternity.

You creep to the edge,
each time a bit closer,
and you shake with that fear,
as you’re ravished with terror.
Stay calm and remember,
for the hole has no memories
of times you felt better.

The hole is a savior from painful nostalgia,
pulling you closer.
A reminder that your only getting further.

The hole contains silence,
that which can’t be broken.
The hole contains nothing,
nothing at all.
The hole does not hurt,
the hole does not care.

The hole grows wider every time you peek,
each time more seducing.
Because the day’s become harder,
and the nights just feel longer,
and the hole offers solace
for the tired and the weak.

The hole leaves impressions
It takes some of you.
For no one can peek into eternity,
for the hole takes your piece
and only grows larger

So here we are.
I’m almost gone.
The hole is now whispering
for me to come home

As it consumes
my body starts shaking.
And with my last breath
I whisper
“Nevermore, my sweet Lanore.
Nevermore.”

Terror feeds my panic.
I’ve never been here before.
These people are unknown to me,
for what this feels is foreign to me.
But I know if I just lay here,
it will be the end for me.

Sometimes I hate you
I hate you so ******* much.
I crave for you the blood dripping from my wrists
I want to cover you in it.
******* death
I know you’re hungry for it