When the birds have fallen silent,
and the insects follow suit.
The Wind roars, primal and violent.
The Cold of Winter is absolute.

The Trees stand steadfast in slumber,
the Rivers are frozen still.
The hours of Man are numbered,
Death will have its fill.

The Heart beats with the Warmth of Life,
The veins within will slow.
The Soul cut out from flesh like a knife,
The Final Peace we shall know.

Eyes freeze solid against the chill,
Marrow ices in the bone.
Winter must take, and shall what it will,
The Warmth of Life unknown.

Ah, Mediocrity, you pernicious and insidious killer!
You live through the Good Enough, the So-and-So.
You make dull the genius; a philistine of the sinner!
You slow the clock to maintain the status quo!
No matter what I do or how I try, you are always there,
Conniving in the dark, outside my imagination.
A villain of the artist indeed! A true nightmare!
The perpetual source of my mind's sedation.
Perhaps it is not you that is the real culprit?
Perhaps it is the ones that love you, that adore you?
I have indulged you before, ashamed I am to admit,
Your raison d'etre is profitable, surely tried and true.
But I have greater aims than you! It is Heaven I strive for!
The mountain that I climb has no place for a *****.

There is a little Monster that lives
somewhere inside my heart.
It dies when the heart does forgive,
but my rage is my art.

So It thrives, Greedy and Gluttonous.

Unchecked, It grows both day and night
off my wrath, my venom.
Like the apple, It grew large with spite,
and became my Kingdom.

The Parasite, my heart It's sustenance.

I hide It from the light, my Secret,
from those who may despise.
They shan't be able to take It,
It warms my soul with lies.

It's music, divine in Its dissonance.

When the Monster sees my love,
It withers like a Shade.
But my wrath I hold above,
To lose It, I am afraid.

Omnipotent in Its belligerence.

When the Monster sees my enemy,
It gives me my purpose.
It snuffs out my shriveled empathy,
and my hatred acts wordless.

I tear out my heart, and **** with indifference.

Sleep is as black as night
for dreams haunt my waking hours.
Vistas of unspeakable horrors
and of fancies sun bright
dance in my eyes, my sanity it comes to suppress.
As do stars shine with long-dead light,
and men hide their shameful regrets,
these scenes of strange terrors
and picturesque heavens,
will be perceived not by another soul
while newborn universes beckon.

I was buried in a pleasant cemetery,
Beyond the walls of the city,
Near the banks of the Mississippi,
When my body was stolen from the Ground.

I died as I lived, languid and cold,
My corpse interred beneath stone too old,
My heart placid, as hard as gold,
When my body was stolen from the Ground.

At my funeral, you were first to attend,
The last to leave at the bitter end,
My lesioned heart you tried to mend,
When you stole my body from the Ground.

Warmth floods through glutted veins,
As you cleanse my soul of its pains,
I am bound to you, my love my chains,
When you stole my body from the Ground.