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Oct 2014 · 384
The Pines
Black Wolf Oct 2014
I walk among the pines.  I walk beneath a range of stone giants that refused to stay underground and tore their way to the surface...and as they burn they scream your name. A searing grip like an Indian summer, refuses to let go. Whispers of lost lovers ride the breeze, it is ear splitting. It is cold to the bone as it travels down my spine. A time each longed for now but a distant memory in a ruined landscape. Blood red leaves rain down and rush across the ground in a panicked search like our hearts racing in circles. We are in an endless chase.

                                   This is the fleeting of seasons.

And now discarded, previously the only source of life, decaying appendages drift from their hold on ancient umbilical cords that once proudly ****** from the earth. A welcome slumber in a plane void of light.  These decrepit forms stand hollowed and hallowed while gnarled hands stretch towards the heavens in a vain attempt to embrace the sun once more...to feel the warmth one last time
May 2014 · 403
Stars
Black Wolf May 2014
I watch souls leave their bodies as I walk down the street.
A mass eruption, a white smoke reaching towards the heavens.

Tendrils writhe above and beyond, changing shape, searching for purpose.
Oblivious, the bodies sift on, up and down the sidewalk, chasing dreams.

The cost of your dream is your soul, no one has ever told me this.
But this I see today and yesterday, everyday.

My hands are deep in my pockets and my head is down now because I can't take the sight.
It makes me wonder if I still hold mine or it has gone with the rest.

Somedays I feel it kick in my chest, sometimes I feel it try to escape.
I reach up with my hand, I feel the warmth caress my fingers and at the last moment I grasp and pull it back.

Most days I wish it would carry me away, like a balloon.
Up and I'd watch the people get smaller until the clouds block my view.

Only the eternal darkness of space would be before me and I'd see these spirits become stars and in that moment I would learn.

I would learn that on a clear night, when you are alone and sad, they are above.

Did you know?

When the bottle no longer helps or heals, they are watching.

Did you know?

To the lost girl wanting to run, they are crying for you, longing to come back.

        Did you know?

A star is a reflection of each of us and they miss us dearly.
Space is where lost spirits go and that's where they wait for eternity.
#hope #life
May 2014 · 445
Rag doll
Black Wolf May 2014
A rag doll.
Pieces sewn together,
                   I see this girl, destroyed.

I reach out,
    Her heart pulsing.  
        But I pierce her plastic eyes.

This is permanent,
      A pseudo smile stitched on your face,

                                               But I know better.

They all wonder where you've gone,
             Bursting at the seams.
                      A cliche,

                                               But I know better.

False interpretations,
                Make ups and cover ups,
                        masks and paints,

                                               I know better.

                            In sunlight,
                  I cut your stitching,
     Open your being,
                 And watch the cicadas drift.

                    You are free
                           And I am here...

Then you wake up,
              A cloth thing still,
                       In darkness slumped,
                                Leftover.


                                    Remnants of a bridge
                         Now hang for life.
               and a river rages between,
    On opposite sides we stand.

    These waters don't fear me,
              But this needle in my back does,
                        I follow the thread to rag doll hands.

Empty eyes scream for help,
          A stitched mouth mutes her pain,
                    I hear all of this louder then the roaring world.

                A shard of class cuts my skin,
To sever your threads.
                These waters don't scare me,
But this needle does..

                                               I know better.
May 2014 · 450
Icarus
Black Wolf May 2014
You burnt my wings.
                                                   I love to fly but you burnt my wings.

And all these memories are racing through my head as the ground gets closer and closer in a race to see which will end first.
                                                               My past or my present.  

                             Air is thundering through my ears and my hair     is dancing on my head like the flames had danced across my wings, consuming.

                                                I love to fly and you love to taunt.
                                 The closer I got, the warmer it became.

The closer I got and I could taste your flame.

I didn't know you'd let me fall.
                       Strip my wings and let me fall.

I recall each feather furl as it burned turning to ash, leaving a cloud in my wake.

                                          A wingless bird enjoying the view.
                                                     Gravity has got me in it's fist and                                                                    wi­ll never stop pulling me down    while you watch me shrink to a dot.

But I must know, how did they taste?

                                   You drew me in and
                                                   plucked each feather.

                                    I watched as you ate.

The ground meets my face and another meets his fate.
May 2014 · 379
On Wings
Black Wolf May 2014
Your brand new heart I do not need
Your threads don't hold me down
Your needle doesn't pierce my scales
Those days never to be found.

Two fallen angels, dancing
On wings of ebony
Embraced in a death spiral
Entwined, they're never free.

As feathers fall, resentment calls
They're wings are pinioned now,
You can't fly? I can't fly.
I've never known how...

..to safely shake this dragon
That's been nipping at your thigh,
A thousand miles have flown so fast
In the blinking of an eye.

And roaring winds grow louder
As we grow farther from mother sun
A hail of fire smoldering,
She whispers "Run, my children, run"

Scar for scar, bruise for bruise
They plummet to the earth
The ground is getting closer,
It's time for a rebirth

Warm blood has splattered both our eyes
From each others missing wings
We're flapping numbly, falling dumbly
As we give into these things..

Head first and tumbling faster
Engaged to this gravity
It's will it seems still holds their fate
As she rips their feathers free

He sawed at her ****** stubs
And she did the same for he
Drenched in each other's burgundy
Resemble devils, free.

Words and lines are rolling off his serpentine tongue,
falling upon deaf ears
It's only been mere seconds
but feels like neverending years.

But in the midst of all of this,
She hummed a song so sweet
A language dead, it has been said

It haunts my every dream.
May 2014 · 356
Blind
Black Wolf May 2014
You see what you want to see,
On trial, we are all guilty.

A heart shaped rock among others
Turns out to be just another misshapen stone when picked.

The night we etched our name into the stars,
The moonlight guiding our hands,
I left a vow you will never know.
And smoke tendrils rose from our mouths in the cold,
Drifting ever upwards,
Producing shapes,
Thrashing spirals against the midnight sky like dragons.

...They now sink like acid through my being,
They drip and rip, devouring my bones...

When is enough, enough?
These penance are becoming less righteous and more pitiful, of this I'm sure.

The fight left a ringing in your ears,
Shifted my vision,
Hearts removed with surgical precision,
And blood soaked my own hands.

I lost count of the amount of scars in that place,
Self inflicting, self surgery.
The spot where only an empty cavity will be found.  

You haunt every word, every line.
A ghost caressing the curves and points with fingertips as soft as flower petals
and roots that reach the ocean floor.

A neon cross on a black back drop plagues my vision as an ancient man chants from a book older than our ancestors,

While I try to make you a crown from bones,
With the moon at its center to lay at your tattered feet.

— The End —