Night coming down on the land shaded red,
As cunning and quick as a fox.
I rest in a cold lonesome room and bed,
When sharply upon my door knocks;
A strange subject standing,
A freak on my landing,
The twilight refuses to show.
I stay here and wonder,
I shake from the thunder,
I fear what it is I don't know.
With a moon resting dull,
Now the night comes in full,
A horrible shriek from there calls.
With a pulsating head,
I vacate this tense bed;
Curious the way this noise falls.
Outside rain dances to thundering drums,
While lightning exposes the void.
As I creep, I peak upon toes dead numb,
The knocking is quicker deployed.
Advancing the floor I see there is more,
to this unwelcome guest received.
Slowing my pace now i reach for the door,
It opens my eyes are deceived;
Before me stands still,
In a downpours chill,
This oddly shadow cast creature.
And even as still,
The lighting is nil,
Yet I can make out main features;
Without hair skull exposed,
Lacking eyes lips and nose,
Black tongue behind finely filed spikes.
It's breath suggests death,
And the chest 'neath it's neck,
Bares broken ribs sharpened as pikes.
Behind the pointy bones,
In the gore there is shown,
My caller is lacking it's heart.
So as seemingly stoned,
I now open my home,
In hopes that this beast wont depart.
Curious to know how this thing is alive,
I've opened my doors and let it inside,
I'll ask it some questions and then maybe I,
Should cut off the head to see if it dies.
born pre sold soul
with a behind the eye
cast iron cold
she told them don't touch
with two fist clutch
said i was convalescing
and she didn't want a baby too much
blurry father's face
maybe made it fifty months
old english fifty after whiskey
heard her middle name maybe once
paid carnal capitulation
felt fatherhood, still damnable
co-created, my gestated, sad situation
co-created, incarnated, a cannibal
Sludge and blood. The smell of deep red iron
filtering through the rocks and bodies bruised to the touch.
Grotesque collections of pills and broken skin;
infections and secretions and violent affections -
Spit stained fingers and dilated pupils at thoughts thick with resin.
Waking up with sickness in your stomach and bite marks on your neck
The pull of clutching hands at strands of hair and bitten lips and sweat
Pulling deeper, sharp inhale of self-done stitches
Ripped open insides and the moment his breath hitches -
aches forever. Pulsing, swollen, bleeding on the brain
Sweet and sickly, gorgeous and gorged veins
Momentary singularity in pain.
ever heard of the tax collectors?
yes, the ones from the Bible.
the ones frowned upon just by hearing their names.
the stories of St. Matthew, Zacchaeus. both tax collectors and both redeemed. they are just few of the collective.
there were many tax collectors who had changed and followed the steps of Christ,
but not all.
since all of them are man, man is inclined to temptation and temptation is inclined to sin.
the remaining exploiters were not saved but condemned to roam hell for eternity.
but as they are wicked, they are also cunning.
they bribed the devil with their stolen riches for their freedom, to which the devil agreed,
but with certain conditions.
they are free to roam the earth, but they must bring back every soul who is indebted in any kind, in any way, to the devil.
now, the tax collectors walk the earth,
with little coins in their pockets,
invisible yet heard,
intangible yet felt,
looking for their payment to the devil.
but in times they are clumsy, they trip and spill their coins.
so, if you're lucky, you'll hear the tinkling sound of coins,
yet nobody will be there, and no coins will be rolling on the ground,
because it's time to pay your debts.
It was a dark cold night
You were walking alone
On your way home
After a day in the office
Chills traveled from your spine
Shivers spread through your skin
Whispers becoming more clear
Footsteps are closer to you
You were dragged in an alley
Tried to scream but no noise came out
Trashing around you tried
Immobilized you felt now
He grabbed something from behind
A knife glistening with the moonlight
It came down so swiftly
You can't even move an inch
The pain came so sudden
This was not how you imagined it
Alone in the dark alley
Bleeding to death with no help coming
He whispered in your ear
"Does it hurt?"
You couldn't open your mouth
"It must be" he said then smirked
When what we see is real,
We sculpt perfection
Hunt us by night,
Masked behind shadows,
Of trees along the road to a cemetery
The lady in a white dress,
Bare feet, boiling skin
Her long dark hair
Slutty all over her face
And a butcher's knife,
Shining under a moonlight
That is not blood, right?
And why is she walking this way?
A tapestry of mosaics,
Of Autumn leaves,
Floating down calm waters
rays of a morning sun
The lady in a black dress,
Out the river of youth
Her crystal skin,
With a radiant smile
And wet golden hair,
Down her shoulders,
With splashing waters
As she walks towards me,
Am I happy or sad?
the darkest of shadows
above my head
swirling and diving
in aerial acrobatics
in the smooth blackness
It is my belief
That they silently long for my attention
the bedside clock strikes three
the icy night air
persistently taps a chilly finger
upon my frosted windows
in such an perfectly eerie rhythm
I dare not put foot to floor
in fear that a bolt of cold will drive itself
into my already worn down bones
but I say to you…
for I am expertly tucked away
under much cottony cover
sporting diva like
multi colored woolen socks
all the way to my knees
the very breath
escaping from my lungs
that spins off blindly into the night
and I must say...
there is a familiar chill
poking at my lower spine
the hair on my arms
the nape of my neck
his frigid breath
upon my tender ear
piercing slate gray eyes
penetrating my willing innards
all the while his frozen fingers
running themselves ragged
upon my wanting skin
the darkness hears a heartbeat
it is hidden well within me
and it beats furiously
but I must tell you...
I secretly long for it to be still
just like his
I wish to hear the final beats
echoing in my dying ears
and taste the eternal euphoria
of his death ladened lips
he takes his leave of me
and as you can imagine
cuts me to the quick
the bitter night air
surrounding me like a iced blanket
not once do I tremble
I grin openly
and carry no guilt
in my final thoughts
simply knowing that
I would die a thousand deaths
to once again feel his cold dead flesh against mine...
Give 'em the old
Hair big enough to reach
Ambition strong enough
To sail through the
Massive, roaring crowds.
The lights - they feel
The adrenaline - heart's pumping
The way it should.
Sing, dream - the way
Give 'em the old
My mind wanders upon paths untreaden for untold times. Man has forgotten its memories here, long forsaken are the ruins of this place. Silently draped in slumber between the mountains and the glaciers lay the sanctum.
And it was within its waters, upon seeing my own reflection that a void inside had filled itself to the brim with an agonizing terror that crept into the deepest part of my creature. And i cast eyes upon the monster i had thought to have become. A dreary dark casts down its cloak on the sky and the midnight orb spreads a sickening and slowly dying glow upon my skin. The faintest smell of cinder has drawn me near to the forsaken wastes.. a search for salvation, a cure for my illness, my bane.. I had sought mine own undoing. For is it not that paradise awaits in bittersweet death? An escape from anguished life with its toils, its charades and strife. Where better to strike the hand to oneself than in the cold embrace of mother earth.
Death is life in reverse. All man has accumulated and aspired to be, slowly vapours into nothing because everything started with nothing. Now walk we shall in a place where man walks beneath earth and earth rests upon him. It is here with trees i did connect and further lost sense of the human being. An uncontainable darkness of the most peculiar and ardent nature didst sink her claws deep beneath my soul, ravenously tearing away layer after layer of my wellbeing.
Hope burned down with furious immolation, upon this altar i submit to my own desecration. The flaying of my essence, bloodletting of the shell that once was mine.
I drink now my own blood, tasting sweet like the redest of wine.
Vampire i have become... the unkindling of mankind hath begun...
‘That is not dead which can eternally lie.. and with strange aeons even death may die.’