Night terrors
conjure shapes
   and forms
far from here...
distant demons
   wake --
they yawn and
   stretch,
their fingertips
touching soul
   and sky.
No fear is felt
because it is not
   known.
Caution falls aside --
showing mercy
is unimportant,
it is a burden...
   antique and
   unproductive.
(There are no tricks
   to fate.)
The world is dark --
each breath
(each whisper)
hangs upon the day
so late in coming.
The demons dance
   and smile --
familiar with the
   nightmare.
(Another time,
another place...)
Magician teach us
careful magic
learned far off --
where hope lies down with
   death.

Hands which tremble
hold my own--
a grasp few
   have felt.
The outcast heart...
How we laugh
   and glide;
how we linger,
yet never die.
No prayer will save.
Hollow eyes/
   vacant smiles.
Patterned madness;
frightening safety.
Devils: shared,
   never alone.
The nightmare
at once repulsive,
then compelling...
Hand in hand we go --
spiralling downward.
A world of walls;
a paradise of pain.

Cold morning
meets dark, weary eyes --
the damp, grey air
seeps reality into
   the soul...
Endless days (and nights)
make up our all too
   brief lives --
we spend what we
   do not have...
moment upon moment,
hour after hour.
The truth is known:
kinship accepted --
no lie to this game
we're driven to play.
Yet, somehow
the world around us
cannot accept what we are.
Candles burn bright
and fast, with
relentless ease...
(angelic visions/
demonic grace).
And cast a glow,
calm and soft,
to stifle fear
for our never-closing
   eyes.

Snow fell like angel
   whispers.
The night glowed
   white
with the purity of
innocence.
No movement,
no sound --
save for the snow
and its gentility.

The call comes
shrill at first,
scattering the brittle
   light --
then notes follow:
a sad, reminiscent
   melody.
Bird, why have you
   stayed?
Why have you stayed?
Winter wraps the air
   so close,
and cold.
Pine trees and fir
the only sentinels
to guard against
   storm and night.
Bird, why have you
   stayed?
Sharp wings cut
through snowfall:
the sky is full
   of white!
What do you remember --
what do you remember here?
Bird, why have you stayed...

Knives twist
   and turn --
in someone else's
nightmare,
lost in lust
and vain deception --
it is not our dream,
   our wilderness,
of love and darkness...
They will die,
   --dust to dust --
and never know
we held eternity
in our bare hands.

Winter's brittle beauty
   comes
in a snow-fall,
whiter-than-white.
Adorning skeleton
   trees;
wrapping this place
in a crystal comforter.
The air is still --
a quiet envelopes
this wonderland...
no bird to sing.
Winter's brittle beauty
   comes.
the air casts blue
in the frozen twilight.
The hearth is warm,
the home snow-bound,
yet magic reigns.
Winter's brittle beauty
   comes...