Pounding heart, diseased but strong;
She sees his hands and knows that they're where hers belong.
Under attack, she must get back
The things she felt before the virus killed her song.
Unraveling knots disturb her sleep;
A red haze on her young face as she gets to her feet.
She won't let go, through the vertigo
She clutches love and things almost too beautiful to keep.
I know her hands, I've heard her voice
When she called me back to her a hundred years ago.
I love her still and even will
Feel for her what she can't take and hide things she can't know.
She made mistakes, she lost her taste,
And now that she's finally hungry they take her food away.
In love , misused and bruised by hate,
A list of martyred lovers too long for her to say.
A veil of tears, a mask of fears,
Those who know her know she's not difficult to please.
She is shy, and if you ask her why,
She'll cry you tears enough to fill the seven seas.
She was ill and still is frail,
But when you've got eternity it's difficult to fail.
She survived, and she's alive,
With each past life she's gotten harder to unrail.

The Brits were twits in '29,
I reckon mandates were not their cup of tea.
I suppose silence speaks louder than a noose,
And that as long as one is civilized, we may agree to disagree.

Enemies share common grounds-
Blood to be spilled, one pair apiece of shoes,
Salaam, shalom, auf wiedersein, tootleoo.

What was is gone,
There's no more music on my tongue,
The fire that was there's gone out.

My pen's too full to lift,
There are only tears within,
And all the aged pages won't open.

There are only crude summations
Of disappointed expectations,
No curiosity left for questions.

Shards of the past blowing in the wind,
With fragments of an anthem
And long- forgotten hymns.

Insatiable fatigue,
Irrational though it seems,
Drowns all conscious thought in a sleeping sea.

What was is no more,
I've forgotten all the notes
On that far- away, hazy, unreachable shore.

The exile was not the punishment.
The return home was.

Darling, love, sweet lullaby,
I don't know what it's like to die.
Will it take long? Will it hurt? 
Will I just turn into dirt?
Will I still remain your wife,
And reunite in afterlife? 

Dearest treasure, sweetie pie,
Will you promise not to cry?
Will you try with all your might
To stay strong when I see the light?
Will you please hold your head high,
And certainly from pain not shy?

Though ignorant, I do know this-
Escaping is a sheerest bliss,
Not well afforded in one's life
For pride does come before all strife.
Though not deserving,  I suppose
I'll merit an early repose.

Angel with those eyes so sweet,
Please pray it to be swift and neat.
With pen in hand and tears in eyes,
I write to you 'fore my demise-
If wait you must, then be content,
Live life full and then ascend.

Hold my hand, I feel
like we're jumping off a cliff,
now we know it's real,
and what can happen if

you hold me tight
and don't let go
at least not 'till
the moon stops being full;

there was a fog
but now it's clear
and it's quite obvious,
to me over this beer

we're sharing something
that if lost cannot be
found and it's dumbfounding
how you lose me

in a place where only you can go,
when you pick up my hand,
we drop our guards down low
enough to finally understand

all the passion in a kiss
in a moonlit country night
with barely any lights on in this
town that's never felt so right.

It's looming over me,
with its gaping maw
full of sadistic
jagged teeth,
each one a stab to my
already itty- bitty
sense of security-
and did I mention they gleam?
Yes, I can see myself
and my flaws
and my doubts,
staring at me
from the mouth
of the beast,
my beast,
the beast that lives
within the black part
of my soul.

I stand right there,
on the precipice
threatening
to devour
me alive.
I balance on the eggshell teeth,
on my bleeding toes,
my poor throat
raw from sobbing.

But I don't back away,
though I could try
to struggle against
the evil magnetism,
dark and alluring,
calling to me from
the depths of my sorrow.

I don't fight it
because the beast
knows something
I don't presume to,
and heaven knows
I can't resist logic.