I try to believe
That he does not torment
Me. Not in any
Significant way, at least.
Blacker than any void
In space or dark
Matter. Featureless yet
So distinctly humanoid,
More human than humanly
Possible. A presence so
Unnerving, not physical
In the least yet so
Completely suffocating.
Darker than the absolute
Absence of everything,
All consuming – he
Follows me.

The harbinger of
Tragedy and downfall,
An entity designed for
Destruction. Determined
To desolate every
Last piece of me.
I will not give in
Easy. I refuse to let
Him take me. I
Refuse; he will not
Shatter,
Mutilate,
Ruin, or
Tame me.

I refuse to
Succumb.
He has no
Control.

He
Will
Not
Exterminate
Me.

To you I am grateful
Unwavering and graceful
You have been my support
You alone hold my heart
By my side and never gone
Through all I have said and done
Unequalled in idolatry
My rapture, nirvana, and ecstasy
“You’re not in this alone”
You blare through headphones
“Follow your bliss”
The one I never have to miss
“Burns a hole through everyone
Who feels it” never alone
O Music
I thank you

Insides crawl with a monster

Writhing through

Devouring all it can

The Eater slithers

Through and slices

With it’s skin

Outsides twist and deform

Wrenching from

Inside out The Eater

Destroys from within

The Eater annihilates from within

Ravaged and Mutilated

The Eater wins

All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone

Immortalized with the mark of Sloan
He thrives amongst forgotten gravestones
To restore their legacy is why he intrudes
For systemic erasure he believes society must atone

All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone

Empathy drives this misguided untomb
Generations of oppressors he seeks to dethrone
Reality remains an unfamiliar interlude
For to delusion The Wanderer is prone

All alone with no place to call home
A vagrant called The Wanderer roams
Destitute and resigned to his solitude
No one to miss him or care that he’s gone

All alone with no place to call home
A hero called The Wanderer roams
Complacent in his intrepid pursuit
Unfaltering ‘till the world sees glory of Arawn

Gone too soon
We will always see you
As you were before us
Our eyes so deceived us
You reached for our hands
Yet no one reached back
And gone too soon
We will always see you
As you were before us
Wounds and our ignorance
You reached for our hands
And we tried to reach back
But gone too soon
We will always see you
As you were before us
Lost and then found
Yes gone too soon
But we will always see you
As you are before us
And what you were and
Forever will be
Gone too soon
But meaning so much
To me and everyone
Around us
So wonderful in life
And merciful in death
To you we owe our lives
Gone too soon
We will always see you
Andrew

Mother, Father, where are your heads?
Swimming with ignorance and memories that don’t exist,
Engulfed by your self-delusions, so remiss
Could you tell me: do you know your kids?
Did you know they’re busy avoiding their eyelids;
Scavenging wretchedness for momentary bliss,
Scouring for a second of relief in a static abyss?
But you’re too busy using the methods you forbid

Mother, Father, we scream in silence:
Do you know mercy, or are we to live in blind compliance?

Panic is a bathroom sink,
Grime-covered and overflowing,
Tearing the skin off my hands
With its vicious heat splashing,
Burning cold through spilled ink.

Inexorable dripping
From the rusted faucet,
Straight to its slimy veins
Sliding effortlessly through my entire being,
Puke mixed with minty paste
An attempt to be free.

Cerise-stained and overpowered
With bleach, an attempt to be clean.
Rotten all over and
Drowning in sour suffering,
Innocence and purity forever
Lost underneath.

Incessantly imbued and
Utterly consuming,
Panic is a bathroom sink.