O old Gods who wait in morrow, let me shine in sacred sorrow
I proffer, and offer, my marrow, bone, flesh, to thine altar borne,
lone in meeting, only fleeting, silent here for duty sworn
My old Gods who sit in waiting, might I power just to borrow?
Only briefly you must loan me the magic to sunder torn.
Weak and trembl’ng, weak to muster, I sought courage, but I crumble,
at the sight of just thy vision, for to me it seems e’er unseen
naught to know but thy own master ‘til I patient, sorely lumber
wondering if fear has stolen me to thine own sacred meadow
when suddenly, fervently see thine true shape and face and form and
terrible dreams enter my soul e’er to stay and e’er to fecund
for death I prefer to understanding the truth our Gods have shunned.

Yet little more did I then speak among the dead and too the meek,
falling towards an abyss so deep that makes my heart and soul weep
dying truly like a phantom lurking in the shallows creep
and yet falling ever faster and so overwhelmed by deep
my eyes and ears saw nothing and heard nothing, not a leap
from the darkness that consumed me e’er more did I fail to seek
that which cannot only reap the dead and tear them ‘til they so reek
so sharp and pointed so it was even I could witness and speak
“Who have I wronged in this place so awful that I am gaoled oblique?
Yet can still think and ponder the widow’s peak and in vain self-wreak?”
in sacred toil among the stardust that makes us shine so mystique.

What does thou will, O lord, my lord, of more than we can ever tell?
I know it is not my duty not to know. Ask I must, ask besides
the husk of my body is yours and yet I know little of thee
by whose authority do wield such magics and more asides?
it is not plain to me what sort of horror lies ‘neath the scorched ground
so why do I? Why do I scream? Why do I see the beast in me?
The hound that hunts for those who must be slaughtered despite what else they seek
the wolf inside that hunts, rips, and tears, taken apart piece by piece
the awful sound of howling that’s for me to not and never cease
the stars themselves align to my fate fear in mind and e’er besides
‘tis here that I myself sit alone and finally soon to die.
for death I prefer to the fate our Gods have brought to us benumbed.

Most miserable
when she’s happy

Most shameful
when she’s proud

Most prescient
when unconscious

Most distant
in a crowd

Most forthright
when not speaking

Most giving
when denied

Most secret
when she’s telling all

Most dead
—but still alive

(Dreamsleep: December, 2021)

When I was young
I dreamt of a life of fun
Swimming in blue seas
Running through the orchards  with glee
Singing and feeling so free
Then came the day you arrived
Planned, contrived, disguised
The day it all ended

Look closer
Even closer than you are noww
Do you see the cracks?
Do you see the inherent sadness in my sweetness through them?
Do you see me being put together or do you see me crumbling?

you'll always be
my favorite reason
to lose sleep

You are not a martyr
You're not a knight in shining armour
You're a serpent, eating it's tail
But who's the snake charmer?

I lost you
in your undecidedness
you lost me
in time

The tragedy is
there's a prison in my mind
all the thoughts that lurk there
are ones I wish were never mine
they etch into my heart
the scars I wear so bright

They whisper wicked stories
of things that never happened
or maybe things that did
things that shouldn't create ripples
in the current in my life
but here I lay in bed
stuck awake at night
eyes cutting blankly
through the nothingness of my cold and dark bedroom

This love is so beautiful
And true and it our
Love makes us stronger
And all I want to do
Is take your hands
And tell you
I love you.

Fear is a lie
Im afraid i love this ****
But love is an illusion
It cant be seen
Only felt

fall has fallen
autumn has descended
deception of brown tinted landscapes
depression

melancholia and melodrama
blissful
subtle breeze
hair wet

i know regret
and it tastes very much like grief
i know love
which, often,
is the same colour as relief.