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Crucifix Jul 2019
Kiss me cyberlight andromeda. Twist salt and sea to fluorescent foam.
Her gaze can rubble rocks, sand sandstone, and grind granite.
Lamplit soul where did you go?
Cold clandestine callous kindness broke my beatdown bladed bleeding beating broken heart.
Like the hot hollowness of furnace fire you lift white iron from my head. Steel the sterling silver sword song of sorrowful saints singing soft sonnets into sunless summers. such a silly sin we now suffer for.  
Forlorn lore long lost, like lighting lingering little and limp lashed against the locked lonely light of tinder embers and the soft glow of days end.
Tomorrow torrents torment of tidlewaves, tornados, tempest. Thoughts of thorny thickets thrash thunderously turning tides of mind to thicker thoughts of trepidation.
We sail on.
Just rambling about how amazing this girl is. Never stop searching for love.
Crucifix May 2019
Storm laden eyes, of silk spun lightning.
Baked in hard night, and the warm cold of dream velvet.
Steel blue eyes. In the forests of silver swords they cut wind and wood in their gaze song, Singing silently through me. The frost fire of haunted gold glides nested upon winter kissed skin. Untouched by light. Moonlight dressed midnight saint. Alchemical colidoscope prayer. She is the essence of heavenly hyperspace. She is the princess of the Elysium ethereum.
Which hollow souls fill for.
Crucifix May 2019
I fall to the lonely fire of faith. The burnout stars of past designs shine there. Lost drowning in the lake of time, soundless effigies hanging in space like crystal lights on Christmas nights.
In tonight we find them in the aftermath of red sky. Tomorrow they faint to draw their blades behind the shields of clouds. Hiding in the thicket of Smaug they still burn there just out of reach. The lonely fires of faith.
Crucifix Mar 2019
You would surprised what breaks you now, by all accounts I am industructable, nothing harms or hurts me.
Nothing bruises or bleeds me. Nothing can stop me, nothing can rob me of what I don’t have. For nothing could hurt me like you. 15 or 24 nothing hurts like before. Before you and your golden hue, my golden haired goddess dressed in blue. My Irish girl. I used to steal the moon for you. Step outside like a movie moment, dance in the rain like we were in the notebook. We lived for night, and wasted our days. Love moon moonlight golden goddess Irish blue sunrays You were made sunsets and warm sundays. That was before the world broke. Now I’m just a lifeless moonlit bloke. I live for night still just to see the stars. I often wonder where you are. Someone else dancing in Sunrays. Who stole away our sundays? Now I’m just a hollow moonlight man.
Crucifix Apr 2018
Shadows grow like wildfire.  The sun falls short in the dusk hour, witching creatures fill the sky. Flying knighs on black wings bring the darkness with ungodly things. The horrors fill the the haunting hour herald by the twilight fire.
Crucifix Jan 2017
The candle light people.
What ode to them that came before, whose light shown bright before the storm. The candle light people, whose flame so bright, and warm we cherish. To douse the light, means to perish.
Having lots of family live in Brazil I found a term used when describing the elderly, and I think it's quite beautiful but it literally translates in English to "candle light people" seeing as how my great grandmother turned 101 this year I really wrote this because of her
Crucifix Aug 2016
I'm standing above the ground, detached and rearranged. Atom bombs are in my brain. So strange.
Electricity tumbling down, but there is no way to touch down. Fear of death keeps me up at night, fear of a thunderstike.
Then the Lightning is in my mind, and I need Someone who won't hide, and who will be my lightning rod.
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