His Grieved eyes stare down the barrel
Teeth clenched, dressed in flame, she's got a soul to steal.
            As faint rays of day trespass
A ravaged passageway
The long forgotten bell tolls,
Accenting this tired tryst,
With the accelerating sunset
Dying the skies a capillary crimson,
Just another piece of scenery
Behind this scene of deceit.
 
The burnt shrine supports his skull,
As through tears torn tapestry and shattered glass
His vision is over powered by the pin-up with a pistol standing
         Point blank.
 
The dilapidated temple calls for one last mass, one more sacrifice
A fantastic funeral pyre paid in full, with the sins of Helios.
 
The words escape,
“I love you”
Only her tongue matches the sky
And theres no way to block out her incandescence
 
His tears of scarlet
Splash against the cold steel his teeth grind
All his hopes, all his dreams...all that he is
Now just organic graffiti
Splattered
All across the neglected floor of a forgotten Church.

With the horizon swallowing the sun,
she vanishes in the dusk, 

And as he falls, so too, does her ring.
Two bonds broken, death they sing.

untitled (poem by me)

lift me up because i can't fly
& i'm only pretty when i cry
when all my dreams turn to dust
i know that there's nothing to trust
you can never really outrun the pain
all these tears are gonna leave a stain
when i feel so lost in the crowd
how this silence sounds so loud
i wonder if i'll fall apart
missing pieces of my heart
have left me feeling dead inside
what's it worth, the tears i've cried
feels like i'm falling, gonna crash
there's no light in the smoke & ash
darkness calling, like a sad song
i wasn't meant to be this strong

Within the window’s green and blue
The flame-tree’s scarlet flares like hate.
Its seed-embedded fruit pods grew
Black bats that were the summer’s bait.

Such neon-spiked display implies
Volcanic urge of savage lies
Just below the safe serene
Of seeming tranquil blue and green.

Upon the sign-post squints a crow
At every lurching butterfly,
His black eye shouts a mortal “no”
And never blinks or winks a why.

Search and seek to find this why
But never will you satisfy
The cat down-hunkered in the grass
For gentle blue birds, should they pass.

.

there is an orange jungle,
where the concrete meets the grass.
And the women, walk
on all fours
and the men, bloodthirsty, crass
crouch behind trees
wearing top hats-
wearing neckerchiefs and gloves,
with dirt beneath their fingernails,
crouched in a feral stance.

The ladies have around their necks
dangling diamond gems,
and golden rings with emeralds
and rubies they defend,
and hanging from the mud-smeared chests,
the exposed ribs, the thighs and *******,
are strings of torn-up flapper dress.

(only the best) these rags of dress
that trail through the mud and grime
that reminisce of ***** and drinks
and girls with pearls, and girls with minx
and men in dapper suits and ties-
and then the vision flits and dies
when in the orange jungle deep
where the grass meets the gray concrete
a tiny clan of humans sleep-

the masquerade
that they betrayed
that last swing-dance
that took a trance
and led them to an un-rest sleep,
where they run in a jungle deep
from eras that left them behind
now feral, now, inhuman, blind
the orange jungle swallows whole
the tiny people its time stole.

Take it from me
there are things that we hear and see
and feel and perceive
and they tangle and weave
and stab and they bleed
into the cracks in the street
at the souls of our feet,
and we fall and we fail
and we whimper and wail
at the sound of the gavel
in the court at the trial,
oh the sentence is life
and the walls are white
for the rest of our lives,
and when we start anew
I can promise you
that the sky will be blue
and the oceans too,
but the shade of the walls
and the doors and the stalls
and the floors and the halls
and the roofs and the panes
and the pictures and the frames
and the mind and the brain
will bleed a color all the same

*white

.