The violet sky was burning
An aura of deadly white
Myriad of colours churning
Among the silent lights

The sky awash with violence
The sounds of shattered steel
The terror of eternal silence
Was burned into my ears

The sound of grinding iron
The whistling of fallen shells
The blare of air-raid sirens
The cacophony suddenly fell

The death of sound was violent
It's melody so suddenly hushed
The music of war was silenced
Though its tempo remained untouched

I awoke to the sound of weeping, was a second before I realized it was my own.
It was strange because I felt like laughing, sad as that would be all alone.
My tired mind couldn't help it though, my decaying body couldn't stop.
I wheezed a laugh so wretched, into the dry cemented ground.
I spat blood onto the concrete, spat spit onto the road.
The broken old town around me, wouldn't mind the blood below. Closest thing to rain its seen, since six or so centuries ago.
My opponent was standing smugly, dark and tall and grim.
My shadow was never one to fault me, for the failure I'd always been.

The clock is ticking slowly
Its hands are counting down
The fires light below me
On dry land I start to drown

The deadline is drawing near
Its gleaming blade so clean
A razor's edge to the bite of fear
An echo within a waking dream

Its burnished steel is shining
Its varnished edge so keen
The silent fall oncoming
Its visage is so serene

The finale will be stunning
The death will be obscene
Once time is finished running
Silence will reign supreme

Sometimes I feel a sadness
So deep it hurts to breathe
When life slips to madness
And puts you on your knees

No god walks beside me
No king or country calls
No man is bound to duty
No cause is worth the fall

I'll walk with dignity
Right into an open grave
I'll take death with impunity
I'd rather die than be a slave

Silent pressure is building
Eyes are wicked calm
Hands aren't even shaking
The calm before the storm

My quiet eyes unflinching
My flesh is hardened steel
The violent wind is singing
Harsh upon my bitter ears

My heart is ever steady
Tension is building fast
None below are ready
Peace isn't meant to last

You'll be made immortal
A portrait formed of ash
Your image but a portal
To a long forgotten past

The smell of fire was ever fresh on the air, smoke seething in dark grey circles around the sky. Round and round and round, like a patient bird of prey. The concrete bridge felt warm, as if hell lay just beneath its surface. I could remember hearing screams, sounds of shrill shrieking panic. But now... nothing. Nothing but the silent crackle of not so distant flames. I felt warm, feverishly hot. I slowly turned my gaze to my arms, half expecting to see a half blackened skeleton with skin sloughing off by the fistful. I saw soot, soot and sprinklings of ash covered me. I looked like a snowman made in hell. Dante must be laughing right now. The world might be burning down around me right now, but the only thing I could think of- was how badly I wanted to say "boo!" My sheared lungs tried to chuckle- and I instantly regretted it. My body immediately slumped, as if some great god had wistfully flicked it from where it slouched against the bridge in a fit of whimsy. I would have laughed had my throat not suddenly erupted in flame. I swear I could feel the embers dotting my air canal lighting up like fourth of July fireworks. *******. Ouch is a ******* understatement. As the pain slowly started to subside, somewhere within my now crumpled heap of a body I got will power to open my eyes again. My mistake. Not 10 feet from where I lay- curled into my best imitation of a ball- lay the ash coated corpse of sloughed skin and splintered bone that I knew as Anna. I screamed. And this time, the agony couldn't stop me.

I waste so much time
My brain left on idle
No parties or fine wine
This waste is suicidal

The death of productivity
The death of all ambition
My time spent in passivity
Hating my lack of volition

Hating this immovable fear
The terror of abject failure
Screams "wait another year!"
And that terror is my tailor

For it crafts my every endeavor
I am not lazy nor am I weak
But the future is the bearer
And the harbinger of defeat

Our silent words are nothing
Our sickening songs are dead
That last breath of something
Was just a whisper in my head

The moving world around me
Is growing darker by the hour
My bleeding heart is dreaming
Of screaming down that tower

Of the embrace that awaits me
Of the sudden eclipse of sound
Solemn grace which escapes me
As my dungeon hits the ground

Soft silk cascading down
From the heavens
Souls ever upward bound
A dark procession

Of souls so light
Gleaming angels
Figures in white
Framed in angles

Of tormented sight
Blackened eyes
Birthed in night
Their silent cries

Scar the stars
Broken vows
Echo far

Soft silk cascading down
From the heavens
Souls ever upward bound
A dark procession

Of souls so light
Gleaming angels
Figures in white
Framed in angles

Of tormented sight
Blackened eyes
Birthed in night
Their silent cries

Scar the stars
Broken vows
Echo far

The black sun wreathed the land in a dark thick smoke. The once blue sky was crying, through eyes of blackened hope. A silence so dead had fallen, upon the fallen land. The smell of fire was fresh, it's charcoal after taste painted every breath. It's dying embers still linger, glowing like faeries in the day's bleak twilight. It felt as if their light had power, an undying immortality. Eerie crimson splotches, dotted the unmoving earth. As our boots moved noiselessly across the newly made waste. I came within reach of those orbs that seemed so much like the Sun's silent tears. And looking down upon the shallow crater in which it was buried. My eyes were met by the gaping maw of an undying corpse. In the blackness of that maw, my mind glimpsed the end of eternity. And the cessation of conscious life. The body held no soul, but it's visage was alive with the memory of pain. I could smell it's cooked grey skin, scent so heavy on the air. And suddenly an arm had reached out and launched me two full strides forward. At that moment, terror so pure and so harsh latched onto my heart with the intensity of a dying star.

Oh iOS, dreary titan of technology!
An SOS, hidden in secret typology!
Oh woe is me, tragic symphonic melancholy

If heaven had eyes, and hell had ears
Heaven would see, and hell would hear
The discordant storm, the miasma of tears

The screen is blank, my heart is dead
Error! Error! The bleak message read
Death marches slow, overlord of dread

Bright red head and monolith of Mac
iSurrender, iGiveup, Iambeggining to crack
Silent foot falls across the carpeted track

The darkest song of the darkest day
appleID.apple.com in the mindless gray
Hark! Hark! Once more into the fray!

March my brothers, to full lines and all!
Some may die today but the victors stand tall!
Monoliths of glory, providers of tech support call!

iPod, iTunes, iCloud, iPhone, iPad iknowitall!
Prices beyond reason, reset, restore and reinstall!
Kings of iLog, rulers of this bleak blue ball

Apple support for one! Apple support for all!
Unless your outside your support eligibility!
Sorry! Not my call!

Fire burns, in silent stars
Quiet deaths, echo far
A light so pure, miles away
Death ensures, a false display

Its lights are show
Its silence grim
No one knows
Its sink or swim

The lonely wind weeps
On shores of stone
Immortal breath creeps
Across an ocean of bone
The silent hills cry
They’re voices unheard
Screaming at the sky
But silence endured
A quiet so deep
A death so pure
Forever it sleeps
The sun impure
The forest is still
The wind is dead
A life without will
Death has spread

Her floral print lips are flying
Spinning through velvet air
Silent *** serenely smiling
Quiet lips and silky hair

The violent tint of passion
Contorts her tender thighs
Throes of ecstasy a fashion
Reflected in emerald eyes

Her tonic voice a suture
Her silken tongue a saint
My body wants to use her
My heart is growing faint

My eyes need to see her
My arms need her embrace
Her pale portrait is a picture
Of perfection that I cannot face

Fists of iron
Steely embrace
A tumultuous tyrant
Ultimate disgrace

A burden beyond carry
A pain beyond name
Corded muscles harry
Face contorted with strain

Tired metal gives way
To the sound of ragged death
Dreaded tyrant of dismay
The sound of haggard breath

Yet the iron giant begins to fall
His weighty gait is sinking down
Tired legs slowly start to sprawl
As the hefty giant claims the crown

The struggle is an exercise
A ritual of deepest divinity
Yet failure tends to emphasize
That it is one done in futility

In the quiet cold wind
The blue bird stirs
It flutters its wings
Among pines and burrs

The sting of the night
Is fresh on the air
The absence of light
The death of a prayer

The blue bird flutters
Its eyes the only light
Silently it mutters
Feathers caught in flight

Its blue blur beckons
Briskly bustling away
Eyes set on the heavens
Flying for the break of day

The room is silent
My bed is empty
Eyes of violet
Haunt my memory

My heart is beating
It skips one or two
Moonlight bleeding
Onto images of you

The past is nearly present
The future seems so far
Her perfume is a presence
Her eyes are distant stars

If I were to grow bold
And break free from my cage
Would stories be told?
Of the heroic passion of my rage

Would the darkness in my periphery
Suddenly be a little brighter
Or would they catch a whiff of me
And put me to the lighter

Would they catch the scent of misery?
See its grip upon my heart
Would their empty stares deliver me
To the darkness for which I'm marked

I awake to the smell of concrete and rusted metal. Before the holes I call eyes open, the dank air embraces me. Fills my lungs like water and holds me tight as a forgotten lover. The tomb is silent but for the steady drip of water. A silent cacophony standing in stark defiance to the quiet that surrounds it. A futile display. My eyes flicker but do not open. Dark suns encased in a greater blackness. They're bountiful rays oppressed by the night that will not relinquish its hold. But a crack is made, and the dull grey of life seeps through. I am greeted by an empty hallway, forlorn and devoid of consciousness. A puddle has gathered in its centre, an odd and misshapen thing. A rustic inkblot that Rorschach would have been happy to give employ. I wondered if I could reach it through the bars. Touch it, and vicariously immerse myself in its freedom.  In its possibility. Suddenly, the grate of iron on iron filled the halls. The shriek of metal and old hinges joined the chorus, until finally, only steps remained. Calm, solemn things whose leisure exerted authority upon the air. My mind urged me to rise, but my body lacked the will to comply. Dark eyes like hungry fires greeted the stranger, dressed in fine dapper if not damp wear. His eyes were as winter, blue orbs of chipped ice. His lips formed a smile and in it betrayed their lack of sincerity. There was a violence to his gaze, an unsuppressed furry. His lips were moving, words were being spoken yet I could barely grasp a whisper. I forced myself to focus, to return from that inner retreat, and slowly, the noises of the world came back to me. His voice faded into being, a surprisingly pleasant baritone "... your arraignment is to be set a month from now, the retrial will commence shortly there after and you will be placed in a holding facility till the remainder of the trial is concluded. A noticeably finer arrangement then solitary. Any questions?"
A small part of me chuckled, the sound was hoarse, grim, more like the wheezing cough of a dying man than a laugh. He seemed to smile, a severity to the sincerity of the gesture. As if cruelty lay just beyond the border of his lips. They were moving again, morphing and contorting into different shapes. The noises they made were a blur though, fading like the sound of a car disappearing into the distance. Its slow engine purring out of existence.

The edge of that razor smarts. A tight pinch as it moves from hair to skin, breaking both with the ease of sin. Four blades of mighty steel glory, waging a war on the fields of my hollow cheeks. Old soldiers armed with nought but swords, old iron and ruined shields. That razor had been through a **** storm, been with me for so long. I could change it, replace its crude coarse blades, its worn and ragged handle. I could buy a machine so sleek that it would rend hair from skin and flesh from bone. But I like this grizzled construct of rough steel and chipped plastic. This ******* knew me as a stranger before he embraced me as a brother. I like him. Him and his manic chip toothed metal grin. I've got friends like him, not many still breathing but they count. Old broken things still ticking well past they're expiration date. I've got brothers in arms and brothers in caskets too. Strangers turned friends turned brethren and then dead again. I've seen too many faces fade from life to dust. It is not in god, but a razor's edge that I trust.

A vision of life is with me still
Past the holes in war torn hills
An image of hope, that will not die
Despite the tears, in my child's eye
Life persists, among a field of  death
Shallow, bleeding but still with breath
A flower once white, now bathed in red
Still lies standing, among the fallen dead
The skies are smoke, thick and hot
An inferno of battle, shells and rot
The earth is painted, in shades of brown
But where splashes of red, taint the ground
While innocence dies, the flower endures
Perfect petals wilting, to war's overtures
That flower is the peace, for which we die screaming
The very thing being slain, when we fight for its being
The children who we protect, with swords and shields
Are the soldiers who die fighting, upon our battlefields

A vision of life is with me still
Past the holes in war torn hills
An image of hope, that will not die
Despite the tears, in my child's eye
Life persists, among a field of  death
Shallow, bleeding but still with breath
A flower once white, now bathed in red
Still lies standing, among the fallen dead
The skies are smoke, thick and hot
An inferno of battle, shells and rot
The earth is painted, in shades of brown
But where splashes of red, taint the ground
While innocence dies, the flower endures
Perfect petals wilting, to war's overtures
Yet as long as that flower, still lies dreaming
Will the hope in my heart, keep on breathing

I woke to the smell of ashes, hard oak and velvet wood. Wet rotting boards as soft as any pillow, gentle touch like a lover's embrace. The clock was ticking, but the hands made no move. A loud striking sound so out of place in the empty silence. A dying star amid the startling darkness. Its noise was violent, an assault upon my ears, my weary limbs itched with the intention of movement but their progress was slow. Phantom limbs moving material remains. Clothes, food, water, the bare bones essentials for a man with barely that. Watching myself move in the mirror, tuck in that nice dress shirt, like watching a corpse prepare itself for its own funeral. I looked like a walking bio hazard warning. Like the face you'd slap onto a pack of cigarettes to make sure the impressionable youth wouldn't buy them. I wasn't so sure if I looked like death, or if he just looked like me. I turned shrunken eyes away from my reflection, displeased with the distortion I saw there. I opened the door to empty streets, silent homes and lifeless skies. I took my first step into the city, solitude hanging from skyscrapers like a man from a tree. The quiet permeates all, as if the city were under water, and silence were the sea.

Within the darkness sleeping
Lies a man of iron weeping
Rusted skin a mesh of copper
Cracked steel and broken armour
Streaks of crimson like shooting stars
Coat his torso in a miasma of scars
The fleeting night flies by the painted moon
Screeching at the sky for the sun comes too soon
Eyes of fire paint the night in red
Roses for all the fallen dead
A broken world dies in bed

I woke amidst an all consuming blackness
A void so empty as to be the death of light
And in that darkness knelt the giant Atlas
Shoulders burdened by the weight of spite

His steely heart was sinking
Deep into that primal black abyss
Yet his eyes stood unblinking
His pain was the absence of bliss

Entombed between heaven
And the sovereign earth below
The spheres on his back an emblem
Of the joy he would never know

His barren eyes were a memory
Sockets where passion had died
Empty lids long lost in reverie
The last of his tears had dried

A golden smile, a gilded mane
Soft sunlight, the smell of rain
Singing eyes, the sirens' call
Smiling still, despite the fall
Halo of light, suspended still
Golden flight, yellow daffodil
Porcelain skin, pale as the moon
A vision of life, in the afternoon
Drenched in sun, light and tears
Her gilded lips, are drawing near

Fear is a mask that I wear by day
Hiding my face from words you say
Pain is the name of the armour I wear
A contortion of sweat that fills the air
Malice is the look in my twisted eyes
The vision of apocalypse in disguise
The emotions in which I dress
Are the clothes in which I die
The things that we suppress
Are the truths we claim are lies

The world is blue
A vision of the past
Every lie is true
Honesty cannot last

We were born in fear
A landscape of jagged glass
Among terror and tears
Sailing a ship without a mast

In the starless sky
Our broken dreams live
Dying, up on high
Sleep has no more to give

No fantasies to sacrifice
No ideals left to ****
No aspirations or paradise
Life is a struggle uphill

The city breathes
It starts in leaps and bounds
Secretly seethes
Hates all those bitter sounds

A metropolis bathed in splendour
Alive with raucous  noise
Society in the midst of surrender
A landscape of broken toys

The city never sleeps
An insomniac since birth
Silently it weeps
Tears that paint the earth

The road is alive at night
An ocean of shooting stars
A city of twitching lights
Heard screaming from afar

The silent sea, sings at night
Softly swaying, waves in flight
The drunken moon, croons so sweet
A melody, to make stars weep
Tears of fire, tears of wrath
Sadness eternal, a lonely path
Bathed in leaves, fallen from on high
Things too yellow, for the bright blue sky
Trampled, still, and caked in mud
Like Broken doves, in a sea of blood

I am a shadow shifting upon the broken wall
Vast visage dwindling in an urban sprawl
I am chaos, darkness left unchecked
A vicious tyrant, call me regret
I hunt happiness by the light of day
Spawning tragedy in night's great purvey
A manic schizophrenic enthralled with misanthropia
The tapering end of a surgically severed ganglia
An anarchisticly pessimistic vision of utopia
Regret the king, paradise turned dystopia

The world stretches on for miles around me
The sky smiles in its innocent embrace of eternity
Velvet perfection painted across sunset skies
Melancholic musings muddled with silken sighs
Dying light alive in the airs of paradise
Wilted dreams bathe in it's promised lies
Silence lives and violence thrives
Because even paradise knows that beauty dies

Your smile is too bright
Your eyes too pure
You are the light
I am the disease to your cure

Your perfection is stunning
Your curves assault my eyes
My heart is running
The shadow of pride in me dies

Every accomplishment shrivels
Before your naked glory
My crooked heart bristles
Knowing you stand before me

Your gaze is rapture
Your touch is bliss
My soul encaptured
In her sweet kiss

Passion is a promise
A solemn oath under the sun
A prayer to keep you honest
Wise words for the dumb

Put your faith in words
Oaths and flights of fancy
Prayers won't stop swords
Life doesn't end romantically

I swim among the ashes
Through a sea of broken bones
Past the image of forgotten clashes
Broken bodies made of stone

I drown in memory
Its tepid, lukewarm embrace
A crimson discrepancy
Between now and times I cannot place

The scent of frost
Tinged the air
The breeze circled, lost
Caught in winter's snare

Its bitter currents whispered
Through a miasma of frozen waves
Alert and alive, it whimpered
Over cold corpses, and wintry graves

A world encased in glacial hues
Swims in the sun's dying rays
A motley of fading blues
Entombed in the silence of space

Wine was cheap
Food was ****
Sat like a creep
And tried to fit

Sleepy as hell
Drank too much
Can't even spell
Wall is a crutch

The girls are cute
Music is loud
Might as well be mute
Another face in the crowd

Swim with the fish
Drink like'em too
Swig and a swish
I'm ******' through

Smile as you will
Grin as you like
But outta my grill
Ain't feelin so tight

Puke in the street
**** by the pole
Limbs feelin weak
Sleep in a hole

Rhymes not so pretty
Style not so sweet
Opposite o' pretty
Not really that deep

Hate most parties
Hate the people that go
Sit at home with a bag o' smarties
With a **** TV show

Entropy is beauty
The death of a thousand stars
Nothing so lovely
As the end of something scarred

All things must die
All systems break down
The end of time
Atrophy a burial mound

The sky is blue
Dark and quaint
A silver hue
Shimmers faint
The smog is rising
Drowning the earth
So mesmerising
Silver grey on concrete turf
It moves so slow
A languid crawl
Misery in tow
It consumes us all
The sludge is pumping
Into the sea
Isn't it something?
The death of Divinity

The Fog is deep, it surrounds my heart
In shallow caves it sleeps, its moist air tastes ****
The air is a brew, of fatal whispers and final words
Piercing eyes in lieu, of a smile that draws blood like swords
Her eyes are alive, moving thunder in a liquid frame
With open arms I dive, beneath the engine of a moving train
A hollow heart comprised, of empty pockets and forbidden shame
Her lilting smile gives rise, to the enclosing embrace of pain

The shallow lights are dying
Fading bit by bit
Those shining stars are crying
The sky is barely lit

Twinkling orbs of splendour
Entombed before my eyes
In the solitude of surrender
Death in darkened skies

If I could show you an image
A simple mirage
Of better places, times simply ours
If I could show you, the elegance of care
The soft sweet touch, of my hand on your velvet hair
Speak to you in whispers, words so soft they're barely even there
If I could feel you, a soft weight spread across my chest
A tiny hand delicate in frame, which upon my shoulder would rest
If I could show you, the compassion in my eyes
The sincerity that therein lies
If I could gift to you, this tiny little heart
Small but precious, a delicate work of art
Intricate in design, and a bright red in hue
Solid as steel, yet hollow through and through
Yet I promise a light burns inside at the first glimpse of you
If I could show you this fantasy
This empty little dream
I could make a mirage reality
A drop of hope, a stream

Oh, Agony, how sweet the sound
Of dreary tears as they pound the ground
The bitter sweet sorrow, of a breaking tomorrow
Of A Shattered Dream
Painted across the sky
In effervescent hues
Of black and grey
A seemingly endless menagerie
Of white hot thunder
Singing the madness away