In the wake of the dogwoods death
Does the woods around mourn in whispered sobs
For it was the catalyst of the point
To where this empire of green
Could look upon to gain the wisdom of peace
Now that the dog wood lay rotted and scattered
On the ground of dead leaves and fox trails
Does the forest tremble in fear
For the chaos to come

Staring into that foggy curtain
That drapes across the forest window
Hiding all the creatures in cloaks
Blurring all the paths with annoyance
So you must walk as a stranger
In a land made of twilight shadows
With you eyes focused to the ground
Your hands gripping at themselves
Waiting for the surprise to strike
And cut your throat in a shower of maroon
But all the while you must remanin stoic
Lest you find yourself no longer on a path
But in a maze

m sorry I couldn’t produce a fantasy

To give away those awful memories

That you had been given so many times

But the world can’t grant those things

And I am not a mystic

Even if it seems to be harsh

All that can be done

Is to keep going

Rare it seems that I am, a creature of idiosyncratic eccentricities

To some it is a badge of individuality, a crest of creative virtue

For this soul, it seems to be nothing more than just sorrow

To wade around in the waters of humanity, floating with stunted breathing

Never catching on to limbs, rocks that could become my sanctum

Looking at the sky in hurt, wishing to float away from it all

To see the infinite wonder of the cosmos, where I feel I would belong

And maybe it is an attitude of naivety and pretentiousness that I carry

But no joy is taken from it, only dread and somber rains in my hands

And hurt is given to others, from this

The room painted in crimson
The body posed with biblical grace
Heavy breathes are the only presence
A stunted panic in them
There stands the beast
Or so we would say
But as human as the rest of us
Why it occured?
That is where the pain lies
Not in the death
But in the meaning

Here is what is craved, the sensation of seeing the blood, the lifeless flesh of something once person
The blood that seeps from the open head wound, the scattered matter of brain that paints against the ground
Like a lullaby for our apathetic ears, we tune in to the morbid display of death
Look for the pain, in the face that is blown off, can you see the fear?
Only do you see flesh, bloodied flesh, ripped and shredded
Is their satisfaction yet? I hope it can come quick
Was it worth this? Can you appease that fanatic hunger?
Listen to the lullaby we create for you, our electronic, angelic hum
Feed the black claw that reaches from your skin
To touch the corpse of your satisfaction