How should it be said?
Should it be written in pretty prose?
Signed with blood, distilled through memories of  initial carved trees
and passions spent
Should it be told within the stillness of a whisper
Or with joyful cacophony ?
Three small words bring me to stumble,
while all the while my eyes betray the thousand words needed to describe your beauty.
Do you see me now?  my heart aflame, held within my quaking palm.
A smile alone could free me from this incessant torment.
Your voice brings rain, summer sweet and oh! how my world awakens in your gaze.

Too long have I suffered silently
within a silken chrysalis of deceit
Today I rise in bejeweled glory
soaring above all that has rendered harm.
Above the black I glide in colour
my truest form revealed.
Such joy unbound has come to pass
My heart sings at its revelation!
"I am more!" I cry to a thousand singing echoes
"This world is mine and life, it's best reward!"

Silent codes
solemnly whispered
halt the silent scream
burning in the throats
of stronger men than I,
who care to remember
days free from the abyss.

souls reckon amongst scrolls
of all that is lost.
I find myself adrift
on strange tides
time no longer a concept,
brings a primal urge to destroy.
Sanity now a hopeful myth
Pounds at my brow
with circadian flow
banishing emotion to vessels unseen.

Blindly into the black
Sensations muted
this patient
impatient, in-patient
writhes with silence
infested with love
yet tempted by the void.
Seeing all.
Feeling none.
Numb.
A state of delusion beckons
Serotonin downers
melancholy malaise.
Survival is key.

I am scattered shards
many prisms
rainbow hues
cover black.
Blue ovals,
white circles
seek cures.

Words run deep,
cutting trenches
through scar tissue
best forgotten.

Untouched too long
by happy hearts
the broken self
Will sing once more.

He moves within the darkness
time slips and drips at his behest
while I, alone, become prey
caught within the glare of infinity
cascading now into doom laden cries.
Dark promises slumber, then tumble wildly
from lips too moist with rage.
He is the needle and I the ****** skin
He is every screaming sinew, stretched and drawn
He is the lie I tell myself
He is the ink in my blood.

Play me a tune with the bluest of notes
Sing me the words in your heart
Bring me to tears with the lilt in your voice
bury me deep in your art.

'Neath a blanket of stars with your sad guitar
Courting the moon in her prime
the simplest of gifts you bestow to her glow
A kiss in D minor, sublime.