Search for meaning in your tale
but beware.
Once found, it clings to you,
and it never loosens its hold.
It haunts you softly at first,
then completely.
You begin to see the endings of all paths,
the quiet extinguishing of every flame,
the fate of every name ever spoken.
And so it kills you slowly, knowingly.
You become a vessel hollowed by truth
a moving husk, mortal in body,
immortal in vision.
Things become stories.
The world becomes a painting.
You witness it,
yet you no longer belong within it.
You stand outside the veil,
alone, an observer.
The wind brushes your skin,
but you feel nothing.
Your heart beats,
but its rhythm never reaches you.
Then, from the shattering of meaning,
wisdom rises.
What was meaningless grows heavy with purpose;
ignorance becomes a desire
you can never reclaim.
Pain shifts into pleasure.
The fool becomes the sage.
And death,
once a terror,
becomes life renewed.
But even then, there is no salvation.
For after death,
you still know.
Knowledge does not die.
Thus the abyss becomes heaven,
darkness becomes light,
and emotions turn to intoxicating poisons.
Gods unveil themselves as monsters,
sins bloom into desires,
and the self
torn from time
becomes eternal.
Nov 25, 2025
Nov 25, 2025 at 5:15 AM UTC
Why does the story not end?
Don’t you long to know its final breath, oh Sun?
How many words must still be spoken,
How many must still bleed onto the page?
The story is eternal,
Flowing like the tide of time,
Like the ichor of gods and the blood of mortals.
It breathes like a wish,
Drifts like a whisper,
And soars like a bird unchained.
It watches me with the eyes of the abyss,
Loves me with the touch of death.
It lingers in the spaces between silence and sound,
Between memory and forgetting.
As long as I read, it lives.
As long as I listen, it speaks.
No end, no chains, no grave to rest in.
I am the reader
And so the story walks with me,
Unbound by time.
Apr 1, 2025
Apr 1, 2025 at 11:36 PM UTC
Take measured steps, in solemn grace,
To sacred halls, to faith’s embrace.
A single wish, a whispered plea
The gods are kind, so bend your knee.
Yet faith must weigh, be tried, be true,
To mark your soul in crimson hue.
So sit upon the altar bare,
And gift your faith in flesh and prayer.
First, the blood so slit the vein,
Let rivers flow, baptize the stain.
Next, the skin now tear it wide,
Strip the veil where doubts may hide.
Feel the pain, hold tight, endure
Desire stands at heaven’s door.
Now the limbs one leg must go,
Then the other, swift and slow.
A hand remains? Then feast, devour,
For gods demand a sacred hour.
And what is left? One final price
A soul you love a sacrifice.
The rite is done, the gods are near,
Speak your wish, and they shall hear.
Apr 1, 2025
Apr 1, 2025 at 11:27 PM UTC
She could have asked for my heart,
And I would have ripped it from my chest,
With my own hands, no hesitation,
Letting the blood flow, a smile on my face, unbothered.
She could have asked for my soul,
And I would have torn it from this flesh,
Walking soulless, without care,
Peace in my eyes, no pain to confess.
She could have asked for fate itself,
And I would have severed the strings,
Remaining fateless, forever free,
A warmth in my expression, as time unwinds.
But what she asked for was a promise—
A promise to forever be happy.
A promise so hard, so impossible to keep,
And now, I walk through hell with a smile,
Wanting to share the fire with others.
Enduring the pain, erasing the hatred,
The promise, a gift upon parting,
A vow to never disobey,
No matter how cruel, no matter how haunting.
Dec 28, 2024
Dec 28, 2024 at 10:20 PM UTC
The river flows through mountains steep;
at its end, a house in shadows deep.
If you take my hand, I’ll lead you there
but hold it tight, with steady care.
The path is thorned, the world will stare,
and gods may envy what we dare.
But if you hold on, I’ll shield you true,
and weave a crown of flowers new.
Yet hold on tight, for fate may stray,
and carry you far and away.
If you stay close, I’ll thread a gown,
of woven fate and silken brown,
so you may dance in the gentle rain,
unbound by sorrow, free of pain.
But hold on tight, for time may part
and draw you from my weary heart.
If still you stay, I’ll halt the years,
to hear your song, untouched by fears.
But hold my hand, lest I forget
the way that’s known, the path we’ve met.
So if you hold on, I’ll keep your tale,
and when we reach the end, unveil
the story I’ve kept within my mind,
and share with you, both true and kind.
Oct 26, 2024
Oct 26, 2024 at 9:14 PM UTC
Emotions are foreign to me;
I wear their masks to feel human.
Envy, greed, love I’ve tried them all.
The pen in my hand won’t rest,
driven by the need to write, to taste
what I cannot feel.
Yet behind each mask of deception,
something slips away a piece,
a fading glimpse of the place I sought,
drifting further from reach.
So I write, tracing each mask I’ve worn,
though my own face, buried in time,
fades beyond recall.
Oct 26, 2024
Oct 26, 2024 at 9:00 PM UTC
The crippling pain, even gods endure,
To long for a place, a memory secure.
Devoid I may be, of emotion's tide,
Yet still I ache when night's voices subside.
A hope to hear them knocks at my door,
Though the sky holds no stars anymore.
The need for faces draws my eye
To search for light in a vacant sky.
Cruel webs of fate grant fleeting views
Of what I’ve denied, yet cannot lose.
Now, this longing’s the last to sever
Release it, and I am whole forever.
Oct 26, 2024
Oct 26, 2024 at 4:14 PM UTC
One night, they knocked upon my walls
No one had dared before.
I waited, hoping they might tire,
But footsteps echoed more.
Still, hope flickered in that quiet place,
That someone might sit near,
To share a word or simply stay,
And chase away the fear.
Then, into view, they softly came
A name I asked in vain.
They smiled at me and whispered low,
“Death is what I'm named.”
"Would you listen to my tale?" I asked,
My voice unsure, restrained.
Afraid they'd turn and walk away,
Yet still, with me, remained.
They grasped my hand, so ugly, cold,
A touch I’d never known.
I felt the weight of final breaths,
Profound, yet not alone.
I read my stories, smiled, they heard,
But time soon beckoned near.
Content, I stood to face the end,
Yet saw them shed a tear.
"Next time," they said, "please tell me more,"
And then they turned away.
Now, I wait, and write again,
For that return someday.
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 8:14 PM UTC
The strings once bound me, though their tale I despised,
For freedom I longed, my own story devised.
So I pulled the threads and broke my chains,
At last, I was fateless, but freedom brought pains.
I watched as my destined tale turned to dust,
The heavens quaked, and hell’s gates ******
But with arrogance, I shook my head,
I denied them both and forged my stead.
The angels mocked, the demons sneered,
For now, I belonged to no tale they revered.
Yet fear took root, though still I dared,
Clinging to stories, of others I shared.
I stole their pieces, made them mine,
In the shadows of fate, I dared to shine.
Indeed, I’ve become what they all proclaim
The fateless being, untamed by name.
Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 9:10 PM UTC
The man walked smiling, purpose unknown,
Bonds he denied, claiming unworthy alone.
A lover wept, her tears like snow,
But still, he whispered, "I cannot grow."
People mocked, yet on he went,
Angel of humility, ever-present.
Wings of virtue weighed him down,
Day and night, in silence, he'd drown.
A child begged with trembling plea,
"Save my mother, please set her free."
The man reached out, but then withdrew,
As the angel whispered, "This is not for you."
A tear fell slow, and with a sigh,
He softly spoke, "Unworthy am I."
The child looked deep, both man and guide,
With stone in hand, no fear to hide.
She slit his throat, and blood ran red,
The angel smiled, the man near dead.
"Do not save yourself, preacher of humility,
Unworthy you are," the angel cried.
The man, at peace, let his hand fall,
Smiling at last, he’d answered the call.
Freed of his virtue, his burdens deep,
Worthy at last of eternal sleep.
Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 6:36 AM UTC