It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the side of the sea.
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 2:03 PM UTC
Numbed & dumbed
Into a void of oblivion
So far beyond the grasp of reality
My face is not my face but a doormat
Numbed & dumbed
A skull left to frighten
Watching you dance through little mirrors stuck in the eye socket
Peering, admiring
But who, admires who more?
But the skeleton, oh he stares, stares right back at you
With eyes crooning and booing
And me boohooing
The crowds tough
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC
Decaying parts
Live zombies
Ungodly bodies made holy again
Are you still alive?
Though I know you to be ashes stashed in the broom closet,
how is it your skin still walks this Earth?
Unattached to me, but grasping onto a stranger.
If they wish to pull the heart from their chest, will you die again?
This imposter wears your skin as a sweater.
If he sins will you too, be a born again sinner?
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 3:15 PM UTC
I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.
it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
A calendar is but blank white boxes lined up in a perfect row, full of promise and opportunity. My calendar is illegible, completely blacked out, written in a forgotten language.
Days no longer awaken me slowly or softly. Days speed by like a racecar hitting my brain and running my guts over.
I’ve learned to befriend the bottle, as whiskey knows all my secrets, and ***** is a close friend of mine. Drinking is the cure all to end all.
It wasn’t always this way. Halfway between a split second and an eternity ago, the world went quiet.
Have you ever met a ghost? Someone so infectious with energy, but disappears faster than your last cigarette. As soft as spring comes, as does the slow lull of sadness.
So to death, I drink. I party as the demons want. I sip until I’m sick. Stare upon my corpse, make peace with the unknown. I one day will have my little ghost back again.
As I appear before you, not quite dead, but certainly not alive. Who will teach me to fear the abyss, to no longer be one with the void? Until I can learn to no longer dance with the devils, I sit alone at the bar. Unseen to the world, with blind eyes turned from every direction. Sorrow is more attentive than bliss.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 3:01 PM UTC