Transformative is the only way to describe your effect on me,
The way a storm transforms the seasons
Your voice is the rumble of thunder through my body,
Our attraction, the sudden white bolts of light.
Lips curled in that familiar taunting smile
Mocking, yet captivating.
Your eyes languidly roam my body
Glinting with infinite promises
Stripping me to the very essence
My own eyes ravage you,
Taking in your hauntingly masculine beauty,
Tracing the startlingly perfect planes of your face.
And your hands,
Oh the glory of them!
How every caress is burned into my memory
How every stroke brings you deeper;
Not only into my body, but into my blackened heart.
The moment you release me,
You become engraved to it.
And in the same instant, questions consume me
For I cannot distinguish between my love or lust for you
I cannot even distinguish between art and love itself.
So I Lie nestled in the shelter of your body
Wondering (but only for the fleeting moment that you are my muse)
For soon I will find new inspiration.

The colors I wear,
Mirrors of ceaseless pain

My tears stain blue silk shirts
Tears never-ending, never-ending
Even when they gather and refuse to fall
Never-ending.

The blood of my lost darlings
Mimicked by the scarlet of my scarf
Forever reminding me
Simple drops of blood bring the never elusive Masque of Red Death

My grey pants:
The soot that is all of what remains
Ash, ash,
They are nothing but ash

The black of my coat,
Embracing me as I know Death will one day do,
As death will always do
As Death has done to my loved ones, my loved ones, my gone ones

The colors I wear
In honor of the fallen,
In honor of the loved,
In honor of the never lost, never lost, never lost

Exhaustion pains me
Like a cold weight in my bones
It takes me under
Pressure of the cold dark sea
Unclear thoughts, it consumes me

Night time has always been “the right time”
Until now that I spend them sleeping,
Clutching now black and broken roses
It was never death I feared
But always the fear of pain I knew would come from losing you
I suppose the only thing we are ever entitled to is death
Now that you have claimed your prize
I have nothing but ashes; remains of your triumph
Embraced by only the cruel sun

My feet are broken and scarred
A thin sheen coats my skin
I walk in
Parchment and incense fill my lungs
I don’t want to be breathing
Not this air
For my city of light is dead, and I am a lone ghost
What is life if you live it alone?
In too slow, out even more so
Too dry, not harsh enough
It lingers; my breath
Like my life
I fear it will never end
The pain of if brings me to my knees
I want this I think greedily, hungrily
And almost weep as it subsides
Up I look, into what I now see as a morgue
Into what used to be a home
One of life, of promises,
Of gold that revealed its gilded lies
Now it is grey, barren as the mocked dead queen
I will never be legend
I will forever await a reunion that will never come

Paint covered hands
Whiped on bottle green velvet

Nothing but a name and a brush
Unheated walk-up

A lump of cheese for brunch
Red wine for dinner

Divine poverty
A canvas is his fortune

Suffering for ones art
In a most radical way

**** muse slumbers in the corner
A breathing reminder

That paint can solve all
Beautiful muse drunkenly still

Shatter his heart forever
So that he may paint

Se io fossi un aereo, non smetterei mai di volare
Se io fossi una barca, vorrei navigare in terre diverse
Se io fossi una macchina, non vorrei rimanere senza benzina
Se io fossi una navigatrice, sarebbe la vita migliore; non ci sarebbe una cosa come dolore

All walks cease their leisure
Hanging over my head
During the stroke of midnight that comes every hour
Fluttering of wings,
I know there are no angles hanging above
Because I can feel the calculating glare, always
Little beasts that join me across oceans
Following me to places they do not belong
They fall from the trees that always seem so barren to me
Cawing, as if to inform me of their presence
To warn me; they see all
As though the devil himself is watching
Perhaps it is he, in a thousand inky bodies.
Ill fortune walks along-side me
They are Death personified
Surrounding me always
Every glance over the shoulder
Every paranoid peek out the curtain
Imprisoned by this vast world
Unable to run, unable to hide, unable to die
Cursing me always
Killing my loves, and the loves of theirs
Silent, black-breasted  protectors

She paints her face in glitter, coal, and fire
Her hem is cut as short as can be
She totters on spikes that are sure to harm any
She lives for the brightness that comes at night
She sways and bobs under beating lights
The curve of her ****** lips
The rise and fall of her tanned chest
Turning her hideously beautiful face this way and that
It takes such a girl to exploit Nature’s gifts
A glance that feels heavy as shared love
A peek out of her curtain of dark curls
Then that crook of a finger, she knows you can’t resist
She doesn’t have to look over her shoulder once
Anyone would know that you will always follow
As one will always do
But it is in her faults, not yours that sin lies in
Pinned against walls, curled up in corners
Plotting who she will love tomorrow
And carrying the one she will love for always
And never have.
Your brother, your sister, your husband, your lover
She does not discriminate in those she steals for her own
And after all, who could resist such an archangel?