Life is tragic, as death is grim
The finer points of morality, all paths lead to sin
Life is fire, hot and bright
Death is brighter, for darkness eats light

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

A biography?
You dare speak the word?
Nothing but iconography
Simply absurd
This is nothing
But an eloquent display
Of petty posturing
Not my forte
So speak your incantations
Your brazen bitter biography
Drizzle it in honey
And paint me a picture
**Of who you would like to be

The fires burn deep in the blackened night
Soft hues shifting, everlasting light
Subtle throes of twisted agony
Sweet caresses tell the tale of tragedy
She squirms and moves, hips sliding delicately
A lithe creature from a nightmare, seduces me
A voice like a siren cries into the forbidden night
A world in ecstasy sings to nature’s blight
Wet furtive movements, soft gentle moans
Escaping from the throat, of the angel of Rome

A shrieking Harlot
Bequeaths my ears with sound
Forbidden, so tainted, her breast a shivering mound
I love her, I hate her
Erratic, writhing, torment, agony, upon the ground
Love lost, pleasure found, a world in turmoil
A man drowned

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.

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

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

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

A layer of mud, caked over a hollow can. Rusted tin, a broken man. Kicked on down the crooked road, past the hollow shells that some called homes. Down the peeling yellow lines, past the wind torn soldier pines. White ash replicas of organic times. Broken bones and unanswered crimes. Blood spilled red is caked on brown. A hollow circlet, a corpse's crown. Syanarra and sweet good byes. Black veiled eyes gazing out like dots on dies. Eerie portals, the Devil's spies. Open mouths, silent still but speaking lies

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

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

I am Agony
In a broken cup
I am regret
Burning up
I am rage
Seeping through
I am poison
Sinking in
The hollow cracks
Of your broken skin

I am Disease
And I am lust
Infectious will
Do Not Trust

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

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 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.

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