Not yet plant or earth but soon.
Not yet runes or sin immune

In this room, and as my tomb,
My voice, only speaks as blooms:

Maybe then the creatures and eaters
Can make a home out of this unbeliever

For maybe I perceived or perhaps I was the deceiver
But I hope that in death,
I could be their redeemer
So when the weavers weave their homes
All along my bones,
My tryst with the reaper
Are where the feasts were.

Thinking and writing
and writing about thinking
While sitting and thinking  
And thinking while sitting
about the feelings
(I feel)
when sinking in the seeking.

It hit me the other day
Not the smell of fresh tea
Nor the steam that hissed out of the spout
Spraying droplets into the air
But of the infinitesimal
Interconnected this of it all.

Even in this teapot a small ecosystem brews
Unaware of its function
I stared at my own reflection
And back it stared
It's eyes glassy
Or was that the sheen of the lacquer?
The smooth ceramic just was
yet my reflection was anything but
In it's simplicity it made a stranger out of me
I am a stranger to myself it seems
And yet I must be a teapot to others
Simplicity or duplicity
Equally deceptive yet difference in kind.
So let's drink tea you and I.

breathe out
can you feel it?
The sense that youre being strangled by your skin
Oh but you try to shed like its serpentine scales
but you are still mortal, yet always a liar

Breathe in
Like a high speed car chase in the quiet of night
the thoughts keep coming unbidden
You're famished for thoughts other than the ones that consume you.
They cut through every conversation, every silence, every core of your being,
until you're struggling,
gasping for a moment,
where being is enough,
Rather than the pinging in the back of your mind
the Thoughts don't stop
Thinking holds them at bay
Yet they remain

Breathe out
Don't give in
Don't dive into the darkness of your mind
Don't recede in
Don't
Don't
They keep coming
the thoughts blur into each other
like the haze of headlights on a highway

Stop
Don't Think
Don't Feel
If I think it through will they leave?
all I do is think yet the feelings trail down my face

Breathe ou-
...ah....
... .... ... now I have no air

It is not so much as I feel it completely
All consumingly, madly, inexorably,
Yet it comes in like the tide
It caresses me until those moments where it dashes my body against the razored cliffs.
It is like a radio that never turns off to give me a semblance of wistfulness rather it gives voice to my demons until all I can do is cover my ears to the technicolor sound.

Is the silence I relentlessly pursue? or is to be finally engulfed by the mercurial sea? I had a dream, where I sank slowly into the depths and it was the most wonderful sleep. Even now sometimes in the witching hour, where silence and shadows is permeated only by my thoughts I think how nice it would be to slowly sink into the unconscious - as the breath is pulled from my lungs and my mind finally gives into the silence I crave. Where my unrest from the grave rises and pulls me in for the last embrace

How can I say this?
It feels too intimate
Like first blush,
the pass of heat against my skin
The warmth of your hands sinks into my marrow
As my body becomes alight with the tenderness of your touch
Touch me, break me, become me
Everything I am, I am not
As you worship what I've become.
I burn for the kind of yearning only you can provide.

Oh gracious night

Light my path

By moonbeams and sad sights.

Grant me the death's sweet kiss

So I may find relief

From the manic moon

That blisters my blood

And summons the depraved demon

Whose words turn everything to venom

And turns my eyes into black holes incapable of seeing the light.

Hark!

The only lights i see are infernos that are my friends and foes alike who spread hurt through their need to survive.

The abomination ravages my skin and turns me black.



The sweet kiss of death?

I know not what I say

for with her fangs

she dripped honeyed acid into my world.

Her candy coated words slithered under my skin and sunk into my unsuspecting mind.

Ive seen another corrupted by the acid until he withered away.

And yet her offer holds my thoughts like a siren song.


I am cursed with a temperament as mercurial as the weather.

And a soul as dark as the ocean's depths.

I am foresaken.

I am lost.

I long to be found.

Yet a hopeless dreamer I am not.

The stars have fallen from my eyes.

In the dusk I wait for the monster to wake.