“Woe to you,” cried the voiceless man,
“For I have beheld the breaking of the world,
And drank fast the tears of fallen Gods.”

“Woe to you,” laughed the voiceless man,
For the doom I forebode is the wrath of silence,
And you shall bathe alone in anguish,
Dreaming for yet, a reprieve from sorrow.

“Woe to you,” proclaimed the voiceless man,
For all things are fleeting, and every
martyr is in flux.

I have placed a curse upon the
heart of every angel, and made
passionate love to my despair.
All grace has died in me.

The passions had subsided, her body sheds warmth,
The flesh resonates and silence conquers vanity.  
Yet my mind does not grasp desperately
To contain this passing ecstasy,
But merely observes its departure,
Absorbing the blissfulness of the shard,
As it drifts into annihilation.
I turn to her, whilst the song of sleep brings weariness,
The eyelids growing heavy,
There I met her gaze.
Such gray emptiness I saw in those eyes,
A solemn emptiness, one that spoke of grace,
One that spoke of empathy.
How fortunate I found myself, to have felt it graze
The untamed savagery and bitterness that lingered,
In the ruins of my shadows,
In the dark corners of my ashes.
I felt alive again in those eyes.
Yet even as I hold her, traveling beyond demons,
Traveling beyond dreams,
I knew she could not love me.

Do I dream of you, fair maiden?
You who brought warmth to a cold heart,
Calloused, writhing in disdain,
When neither mountain nor visions
Could soothe the emptiness and sharks
Swimming freely in the temporal ocean.
Yes, fair maiden, I do dream of you,
And I would trade all thoughts and all moments,
For but another glance from your eyes.
What radiance you saw in me, I myself could never see
And even now it is hidden, veiled,
But holding your favor, if only for an instant,
Nullified the demons, and unveiled the face of God.

Long ago I dreamt of mountains,
I dreamt of finding bliss,
I lay alone now, unfulfilled
I sleep in slime and ****.

I travelled far, and left my home
In search of light and revelation,
But neither the road, nor the sky
Could sanctify my demons.

I sought to pray atop the spire
Where the clouds and mountains meet,
Though restoration of lost fire,
Is a mere idealistic dream.

I've had women, but never known love
For my impotency defines,
I bore not the mind nor matter
To obtain what could have been mine.

Bitterness, sweet bitterness
I make love to my cigarettes,
They keep me warm on coldest nights
When I am drowning in Solipsis.

In cinema, man is changed by journeys
But fictions are not always so,
For some wounds are beyond healing,
And I race now towards Thanatos.

My chest aches.
She lies suffering, in great pain.
I look into her eyes. There is great sadness in them.
She has not the strength to trudge on.
She does not wish to exist in this fashion.
I remember my youth, running with her in the field
Her voice was so joyous, resonating into the distance
She was swift and passionate, submerged in pride and loyalty.
She slept with me when I was ill,
Placed her head upon my lap.
I see tears in her eyes.
I lift the cage, the long drive begins.
She knows, as do I.
Destination reached, we enter the chamber.
She tries to stand, as the cage is placed upon the floor.
The man in the white coat shows compassion.
He has seen this many times.
He tells me she will suffer no longer,
That this is the eclipse of mercy.
I hold her close.
The first needle comes, to stifle her fear.
She whimpers in pain, and my throat chokes,
I tell her everything will be alright.
She stumbles, I try to hold her tight.
We lay upon the floor with one another.
She licks my face one last time, a parting gesture of love.
Her golden locks of fur remain majestic,
And she fights to maintain her dignity.
The second needle comes, and she cries out,
The sedative fills her, to ease the transition.
I hold her with all my might, her breath is eradic.
The contractions decline, and she breathes slower.
I kiss her head. I hope she knows I am still with her.
The breath slows to a murmur, and she lays in my arms.
The third needle comes, and the poison fills her body.
Seconds pass, though it feels as though I waited an eternity.
Her heart stops, as does mine.
I kiss her one last time, as she dwells in eternal sleep,
And I leave the chamber behind me.
I inhale the bitter taste of smoke, though
it does not quell my anguish.
The ash falls to the ground and the truth of mortality stabs me
in the eyes, as I suppress the flowing water.
She was more noble than I.
Her love was always pure.
I was glad to be with her, at the end of all things.

Woe to you, my dear Epsilon! You were ill-fated by machines,
Those that breathed life into your *****,
Those that brought bliss to puppeteers.

Alas, poor Epsilon! You  cannot dismantle the tower,
For you are of bad faith, the roots grew deep
Far beyond lamentation.

Play me a song, foolish Epsilon! Express to me your sorrow,
Compose for me the hymn of your alienation,
A requiem for subservience.

She is half black, she is half white
She was here once, yet no longer
I was with her only once, no more than that
There is lingering attachment, though I am detached from many things.