EphemeralRain
I am a suffering poet in love with expression. I am lost within absolute darkness, a silent clairvoyance. I am but a whispering wraith caught in a cloudburst of dreams. I am haunted with memories of sorrow, the snow upon my lips. Though I feel the remnants of the cold and dreary past, I can still feel the blood in my veins turning to fire. Let the rain fall from the skies and wash away this eternal pain. In venere veritas. / / / "Victims. Aren't we all?" - Eric Draven / / "Just so we're reminded of those who are held back, up front there ought to be a man in black." - Johnny Cash / / "Falling in love is the best way to kill yourself." - Ville Valo / / "My sun sets to rise again." - Elizabeth Barrett Browning / / "I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness. And yet I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them." - Frederic Chopin / / “It seems only yesterday I used to believe there was nothing under my skin but light. If you cut me I could shine.” - Billy Collins
A serene cottage upon a dreary hillside
Where my mind's listless galaxy of neurons
Synapse in the absolute darkness,
Is painted in Victorian hues, cold and haunting.
Dejection rains down from the leeward sky
With nothing harkened save for the ocean's
Stormy roar and a desolate lighthouse,
Beckoning through the fog and memoirs of the past.
The deeper my soul is carved out with sorrow,
The deeper the hollow can be filled with joy.
But alas, I feel nothing of joy but only a void
Left by the dagger of yesterday's darkening tragedies.
I feel the rain soothe my skin and kiss my cheek
Like the sweetest lover on midnight's embrace,
Yet my moth-eaten quilt of memories only seems
Enough to shelter our legs but ne'er our feet.
My heart feels the warmth of an autumn fire,
Kindling in the crisp rain, bleeding beneath
A rose where we burn in the endless torture
Of our own despondence.
I can feel the blood in my veins turning to fire
As I imagine her fingertips unzipping my spine
As though it were full of secrets and mysteries
Unbeknowst to myself...
I can feel the inferno that rages within my aortic arch
Every moment I imagine losing myself within her
Eyes, glimmering like an eclipse over a midnight
Sea...the Sleepless Coventry.
She unlocks my secrets and weaves them in the bouquet
Of tendrils in her hair like ribbons of crimson and light,
Waving in the vehement northerlies with numbing scents
Of argan and spice.
Her body is but a canvas wrapped neatly around a
Paper mache skeleton, the most beautifully tragic
Foundation known to humanity...
She arrives right on the equinox to set fire to my sorrow,
Intoxicating me with her kiss and infecting me with her smile.
And so enters the conflagration of my soul,
An annihilation of light, blackening my coronary
Artery whilst shooting smoke through my cinnamon
Whiskey tainted veins.
'Tis hard to look through such a misconstrued lens
As such, the Vena Cava Kaleidoscope...
Where the flames burn through the galaxy of neurons
Expending the harrowing memories as its fuel.
I can see the magnetic alloy of her Cobalt eyes reflecting
The fire that consumes me from the inside out.
She pulls on me like the moon pulls upon the tide
As she whispers with her soft, enamored sigh.
I burn in my silent knowing, my liquid mind
Awakening in fervor and strange euphoria.
I burn for the Aurora Infinite.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
You consume and consecrate like a locust
In the heat of a summer night;
A mirage of your face casts before me in the
Hellfire of a southern prairie.
The scorched ends of my eyelids struggle
To see through the sunlight;
I can no longer see you.
You've packed up and left behind a dust bowl.
A large section of my heart is left empty
And hollow;
It's a place you've decimated to the very end
Until I am left with nothing more.
I'm used up.
My heart has been reduced to ashes
Where your wild fire caught me.
I am withered like the edges of thirsty leaves
And blackened;
My soul is cauterized with the flame
Of remorse and grief.
I'm an oil derrick shifting restlessly
Up and down hoping to salvage
What is left our love in a drying well;
A lonely machine working around the clock.
I'm just a faded polaroid blanketed by dust...
Emaciated and hopeless.
I wish you could feel how heartbroken
You've made me!
Hangman's noose snaps under the weight of
Whisky and bygone memories.
You've consumed me like a locust.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Please allow me to bestow upon you a nocturne
The music of the night...
Just listen to it...
...the reverence...
Why must I sit here in grey silence,
Listening to the hard rain on the window sill?
I dreamt of you.
Your smile.
Every arpeggiated chord.
Every melodic line.
Every soft passage.
I dreamt of you.
I awake and read your words
And fall deeper into enigma.
Where am I?
I dreamt of you.
I heard a voice in my right hand.
Trying to escape, it led into an appoggiatura of trust,
A suspension of sympathy.
I dreamt of you.
All of these crazed non-harmonic tones
Clashing high above my flashpoint.
The dissonance carries.
I dreamt of you.
Am I just so lost in the music I see in you?
Or am I once again over-analyzing?
It's you! It's you!
I dreamt of you.
Where am I?
Why am I not near you?
This entrancement is becoming indefinite.
I dreamt of you.
Please come closer.
Beyond this shadow of thought,
Lies the key to a locked door.
I dreamt of you.
Your words pierce my heart like a dagger,
Making the soft nocturne glow as bright as you.
While I breathe, I hope.
I hope we meet in our dreams tonight.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
When the winds blow and howl through
The air like an exasperated ghost,
Her hair becomes drenched in oxygen and light,
Slowly levitating above her shoulders.
Each gold and silver laden tip flies just as
She flies.
A storm approaches from the seaward way,
Bringing a fierce sadness that eats away
At the rocky coastline and the houses
On weak stilts.
But she dare not move.
To what extent is her fear innate?
She embraces the thunderous turmoil,
The salty brine and sand flooding her eyes;
She cannot tell if it is tears.
Or the ocean's waters.
The roar of the storm is the white noise
That helps her sleep in despair.
She is fearless despite that dejection has consumed
All that remains.
Although sorrow has taken the city and painted
Its bridges and buildings in hues of grey and black...
Somehow, she is the only one with
Colour.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
A cooling zephyr blew across
Union Hill and twisted and turned
Until it was caught in a dream,
Tangled in ribbons of reflective light...
Light that was amplified by her
Grace and cerulean eyes,
Like burning cobalt
In an eventide sky.
The profound depth of her mere
Being was enough to hold me
Down, something gravity
Could ne'er do.
As I looked behind her
Bright stained glass windows,
I witnessed every beautiful
Objectification.
Sometimes, I swear I could hear the
Song of myself ringing in her tears,
Dying in love in those cries
With nothing more than a sweet embrace.
I began to feel a foreboding
Sense of impending happiness
Dwelling among the empty chambers
Of my restless mind as though it were...
A ghost...
Haunting my soul at its very apex,
Flooding my arteries with
Love's summer venom...
Sweet like her sugarcane
Kisses...
Warm to the evanescent touch,
Yet cold to the efflorescent taste.
Oh, how light flowed
Forth from her tender fingertips,
The same fingertips that touched
My face at midnight...
That witching hour we spent together,
Killing each other's
Sullen loneliness until
Time and white silence lulled us to sleep.
By every passing moment in the
Sensuous manifest we call
Romance, the light cuts me
Deeper with its rusty blade...
And disarms my final breath...
"No more, no more",
And forevermore.
I fall weary in my crimson tide
As she draws me near and nigh
With her soft spoken words
And enamored sigh.
I am drowning in her August Light but
My Bleeding Heart bleeds for hers, every night.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
Just as the colors of Summer
Fade into gentle shades of
Nighttime cerulean and smoke,
The velveteen sky whispers...
A restless secret echoing across
Silent meadows, heavy with shadows
That bleed shrouded consciousness
Into the museum of my thoughts.
Each canvas is made of my skin,
Drawn tight to a bone structure of
A paradoxical girl who's fingertips
Emit a light...
A strong light which used to flow
Like a river over midnight tears
And take me beyond to the realm
Of sensation.
But now, I fall weak before the canvas
Into a slumber as deep as time.
Billowing cloudbursts of paint in hues
Of sorrow white and southern red
Rain upon my resting body
On the floor.
The ghost of my conscience comes
To cover me with a quilt patched
In foggy memories, incidentally
Soaked in honey whiskey...
Just as the ghost covers me,
It softly focuses on lips and breathes
"The empirical nature of your thought
Rhymes with sensational control."
Though I venture in and out of
Dreamscapes unknown,
I still hear the sound of the
Wraith in my mind...
Like the somaticism of a beckoning
And lonesome mockingbird calling
In the nightside fields of
What I suppose is peace.
My chest becomes burdened with a sigh,
A decadent and pure intoxication
Of the abstraction of
Reality...
Seven miles above a three inch
Reality.
The Watercolors flood the ever deepening
Hallow of the museum of thoughts,
Drowning the corridors of my mind with
Her liquefied heart.
I have completely lost a piece
Of myself in her forever...
And light [watercolors] flowed from her tender fingertips.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
I want to feel you breathe,
So cool and languid,
A gentle rise and fall
Of your sweet skin...
Oh so calm and temperate
Like the resting waters
In the glassy fields
At nightfall.
I want to rest my head
Against your flesh,
Pale and cold like
A cooling, winter sunset...
And kiss your [cadaver] eyes
All the while drifting lightly like ash
Along the soft currents
We are carried through.
The tempest carries our bodies
To the Sleepless Coventry
As the Albatross flies
Over head, leading and bleeding.
The night with the eyes of water and
Painted in decay, cries for
The tragedy I wish to
Live...
And 'tis such a tragedy so,
For I want to love you
In the most ardent
Sense, my darling.
My sweet love, I wish to feel the fire inside your
Heart to keep me warm in my coldest hour.
My ocean soul covets the
Warmth and the silent curves
Of your tender body, becoming
One with the waves...
Like a lone kindling flame
Beneath the sparkling waters,
We burn together, attracting
The teeming luminescent.
Dearest lover, let us fall together into the sea...
Hold me tight in your arms...
And these lips will
Caress your watery eyes,
And bring you the loveliest
Cloud of dreams.
Hand in hand,
We are Shadows by the stormy sea...
Restless Shadows and the Sleepless Coventry.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
I can feel myself becoming more and more
Withdrawn.
Slowly drawing away like a picture
Faded in the sunlight from endless
Summers on a warm dashboard.
Smoky breezes pass and swirl around
Radio airwaves like a ballet.
Gently, it plays.
Like my voice.
But sound just gets eaten by
The east wind and carried
Downward into the mundane.
There is an impulsive dissonance..
No one recognizes who I am anymore
[Except for an equally lonely barista].
Perhaps her and I are the only pair
Who hear the dissonance ringing?
Perhaps we can lighten one another's burden,
But we're much too reticent for conversation.
Breathing harmonizes with the whispers
Of air passing through the trees,
Still my voice is lost somewhere in
The hot atmosphere,
Whipping around like an only child's
Lost birthday balloon in the bright sky.
The balloon gives up and pops under pressure.
No one hears its melancholic resonance
Through the crashing airwaves
But see its shriveled carcass falling
Into some suburban lawn.
The distance grows like sunflowers,
Germinated by the buzzing few
Who enter and exit my life as
Quickly as they possibly can.
I watch as people attempt their facile exit
As if speeding through a traffic light.
"Eventually they will crash", I tell myself.
But they articulate too well with one another.
Heat radiates and swells within my chest.
Lines blur together.
Forgotten images become the
Cloudy shapes of a projective
Test for the heartsick.
A wearied aperture opens and closes
Trying to capture a glimmer of an
Accidental memory,
But the heaviness of summer light
Exerts a certain gravity upon me;
Ultraviolet-B lethargy.
Everything has faded.
Even the black smudge,
The careless finger who eclipsed
The camera eye,
Is faded to a hazy grey .
With time the heat swallows the photograph
And leaves behind an empty canvas
As I become withdrawn and absolute.
Now, there is no substantial evidence to prove
My existence...
Except for a blank polaroid waiting to be recycled
Into another portrait of someone less forlorn [extinct] than me.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
Her alabaster skin washed o'er me
Like an endless river.
I melted seamlessly into her porcelain
Architecture.
The shrouded mist of her sweet breath
Was the fog that danced through the
Synapsing forests of my love-stricken mind.
Her auburn hair created a Golden Gate Bridge
Just for me to walk upon.
The verdant color in her irises splashed
Light and hope just beyond the oaks of axons
And memories where I hide.
I have evolved. I have grown.
Holistic and otherwise.
I have grown up the trellis of her spine
And into the breadth of her heart.
I am complete...
Completely in love.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC