The pool is a
Wary heart of
Swinging moods

Light from the sun
Reflects the waves
Like constellations

Suspended forms
Floating around
Wandering in the sea

Aimlessly they drift
To the foreign shore
Where the winds are warm

Part I

Out of death,
My shallow grave,
I rise.

My eyes
With godlike vision,
They can see through

The dark
The gloom
And the mind.

Lonely is the road,
tread by wheels,
Watching them go.

Spectrum of colors,
Halo's gold,
All fading into oblivion.

Vacant houses,
keeping - lost words
- in

Lines that cross faces,
so familiar,
Don't write their names.

No recollection
of the light
in their eyes.

Captain of the Titanic,
Sail on.
My skin is cold.

Stale blood running
in veins,
I can't help but to overhear.

Roses on a wooden box.
The world is dying,
I remain.

Part II

Of eternal life
and punishment,
I confess:

The sin
of Nostalgia
in my static heart-

For longing
to burn
down the world,

Not for creation
of new
in the ashes,

but for destruction,
that will
end all destruction,

for one last collision
of life and death
joined into one.

From a thousand miles away,
Or at an arm's length,
One could hardly take their eye off
From the spot in a sea of white.

Amid the identical bleats on the grassland,
Stood a distinguished creature -
The only one of his kind -
Legendary, no less magnificent.

Yet, since a little lamb,
he was obscure to the eye of his kin.
They squinted and scanned and studied
him, even liked the lame better.

Never did he understand
The reason behind his isolation,
Why a lovely creature like him
Was born to walk alone.

His traitorous heart longed for more
Yet the soft clouds were not home.
So he wore his color like a badge,
Blazing darkness in delight.
  
On his fours, he staggered forth.

I dress in black to a funeral
to mourn someone
that i used to know
and linger
let her haunt me
like a mantra  

her former skin
her former bones  
her former heart
her former mind
her former strength
her former spectra  

funny how
i am the ghost
the pale phantom
in her mirrored image
standing over
my former self.

We all have temples
And ruins in ourselves,
Yet I got to be my own devil.

Full of fatal advice
Was the altar in cold Styx
I set myself upon.

(I, a princess perished afterwards.)

But with these meager, mortal eyes,
Had I ever seen anything so terrific
As the face of a god?

Thunder roared.
Fiery heart.
Fever in my palms.

(I, a goddess of madness now.)

How I prayed fervently for a love
that shall make me holy, whole,
and sacrificed myself to the devil I forged from fire.

A home more than a house.
The kiss of The One.
Mending schism between two minds.  

When I stopped praying for such doomed ambitions,
and started looking inward,
I find in me my Deliverance:  

My home.
The love of my life.
Harmony of the head and heart.

Your name,
it is wet blood that clings to my lips
Invoking it, choking on it
I have summoned You
Haunted as I am,
as desperate as I beg to be possessed,
I release You —

For I know by nature’s law,
the living does not belong with the dead.