My father dropped his careless seed where my mother wished she'd bleed.
You created what I breathe when your lungs began to heave.
I forgot what life unfurls when I heard your whirling purr.
I unveiled your place of birth when my gaze derailed from Earth.
In the stream above the hills, dreams the gleam your lifeblood spills.
Counting decades down your braids, I invade your rounded jades with a gaze you've made cascade.
How you drown my sunken tortures with a frown of drunken fortune.
My lies die between your thighs, in the sighs that close my eyes.
The violins of silver inns shiver hymns of our sins.
The privateers on piers of tears cheer our fear of nearing years.
You imprisoned all my seasons with a year of untold reasons.
We were forged where angels gorge to be carved where devils starve.
Why'd you dose your prose morose to the bard who tarred your shards?
From divisions of your lips, I've received incision's kiss.
With ardent hips of fervent current, the errant serpent grips her servant.
All I brought was thought for naught when your rot became outwrought.
From the pond where I abscond, I watched the botching of our bond.
Every breath deployed to drown when you left devoid of frowns.
For the throne of humming bones, I've condoned becoming yours.
I am sworn to mourn and scorn every thorn that had us torn.
I have claimed the maiming blame for games of shame that gave us names.
All my zest, betrayed and rotten, in a chest remains forgotten.
We transcend repentant lows to embrace resplendent woes.
In the pool that holds your tears, drools the fool who stole my years.
The violins of her violence weaved the bindings of my silence.
I forgave her what she lacked with the fervor of my ax.
She used to have me broken hoping till I split her forehead open.
I forgot to leave her soul where her torso's open cold.
Now she blends my lips serene with the hands I've cut off clean.
The refrains of all my poems, now engraved on bullets chrome, in her skull remain alone.
Derelict, her tongue disdains, with my lick on her remains.
I resent the way her scent invents consent to my lament.
My mouth consumes the fumes she tombs to spout the dooms that loom unwombed.
I've divorced the nasal morse forced to course from out her corpse.
Now the tree that held our names roots around her welded grave.
On the hill where we once kissed, she now sleeps beneath the mist.
Even now she laughs at me, with her shafts forever sealed.
Dark and darker, her darkened barker, marks her tomb a layer harder.
My bride rides the tired tide, where our breaths by death divide.
She enjoys the rhymes I ferry from our time to where she's buried.
I have drained all waters spent where her face could not reflect.
I still hide my drying cry where our prides would once collide.
I demand her lifeless hands to once again caress my tan.
I've repieced her fleeting fleece of the fleas that tease my peace.
Like a dog, I found my god, in the fog where she once trod.
I begin where grins of skin create the sins she used to sing.
I've become the barren baron
of a fortress with no forces
leading my stampeding legions
to find their feet in my defeat.
This is not a poem.
It is a diary.
A little story project of mine, in which the parts are separated by the straight lines.
The story is told through individual entries about her in his journal - individual thoughts describing a certain stage of the man's descent into madness.