My soul is stained
scarlet red
scarlet red with the passion
of the blood that flows
through heart and brain and bone
You My love inflame every inch of My being
Oh, how I am lost without You
I am filled with a delirious longing
Oh, the words I cannot find
I search and search
and tear the flesh of My brain asunder
I search the deep parts of My soul
My very being
to find words that will not come
though I had the tongues
of ten thousand angels
I could not find
the words I search for
so desperately
Oh, I am desperate for
that haunting word
on the tip of My tongue
that sacred word
that would tell of the depth of My love
that the depths of hell
and the heights of heaven
is neither more deep
nor as great
as My love for You
if You love me not My angel
take a blade sweet love
and still my beating heart
a release from My agony
however You hurt Me
My sweet love
I only love You more
then let Me lie
in the cold and dark
of the earth for evermore
a poor unloved
forgotten
and failed soul
who exist
nevermore

670

One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted—
One need not be a House—
The Brain has Corridors—surpassing
Material Place—

Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting
External Ghost
Than its interior Confronting—
That Cooler Host.

Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a’chase—
Than Unarmed, one’s a’self encounter—
In lonesome Place—

Ourself behind ourself, concealed—
Should startle most—
Assassin hid in our Apartment
Be Horror’s least.

The Body—borrows a Revolver—
He bolts the Door—
O’erlooking a superior spectre—
Or More—

Sitting on a bridge
Looking at the river water
The moonlight reflects onto my skin giving tonight a better lighting*
Falling in the river, the current pulls me under
I'm not afraid, but I find myself clutching at the water, my instincts kicking in
I get to the bottom
The necklace that slipped from me while the current pulled me down slowly flows down
I stop clutching
And I let the round silver locket fall into my hand
I see the picture of us and the word that's written *Forever

I'm a writer writing about a writer who writes about
stories told at cocktail parties
and spirits in the hotel
a beautiful woman
an innocent child
lust, love, out of luck
the death of a venerated character
stories much more popular than my own
I'm a writer writing about a writer who
is an alcoholic
who has a beautiful woman
and an innocent child
and a knack for neglect