She made sallow of the ripe and fair
Tastes like whiskey tamed by wine
Tried to fallow gained only despair
They won't miss me; stained in time

Madness observes the mind
Thoughts perched on the brink of sanity
Manic mirth, a friend in kind
Man gave birth to the truest vanity

Chuckles and glances and death
I'm the tale to be told
Hide your face, hold your breath
Stay warm to be bold

It's boring, knowing, feeling, seeing
Whispers shift slow
I'd gladly empty my very being
To allow you to know

The face won't betray the mask
I asked it politely
But it is dead set on this task
So I move it slightly

I refuse to speak in your tone
****, dead eyes
Hate so good I want to moan
Crush the flies

Delving into the breaches of this void
Whimpers fervorous and grating the air
Disparate echoes enraged and overjoyed
Empty ideals found shattered and bare
Shifting and potent ego’s used, employed
Near hands and hearts of those who care
Solemn faces, peace yet to be destroyed

Break a heart to feel desire
Suffer now in dark and mire
Empty pages to fill this book
Step off the ledge for a look

Pay eternity in tired penance
Dying glory for your reverence
Skin to softly warm the heart
Spirit and mold forever apart

Her Soul and Self Soaked in Beauty
Wreathed in the Light of a gaze’s steal
A Radiant Lyrical  Perfection truly
Took Heavy Hearts and made them Feel

A Pale Visage marked with Sea-foam Glory
A Goddess fantasy made Matter made Real
My Spirit softly bound by her Story
My Brick layers were not made to Peel

I go on softly Doting you, My Dear
Mending Matters with my unheard Deal
With time allowed, the Truth made near
The Black Heart and the Waxy Seal

Fevered, I stumble farther down
I've not been humble not been found
Skin bare to the cold, Mercy take me
Slowly I crumble into gray and brown
I concede this road serves to unmake me

This life I loathe had love to behold
My creator knows and to me he told  
Compacted earth finds a way of means
But still it goes and I to see it unfold
Delayed in birth the path still pristine

When I write it is a panic
I shake I rage
I'm always a moment from crying and laughing
I can taste the air they breathe I feel their tears and love
Born in a moment
Live Love Die
I want for nothing else than to create

Who is to praise love from afar
Undeterred by lack of space
Echoing eyes of light and stars
It struck lively without haste

Not to deny to you tender words
Uttering my heart and head
For your beauty is not unheard
As sight to love may wed

Demure air spills true and through
Easy to love such blushing
So I will build and tell of you
Simple to err in not rushing

The inspired myriad
An unending
Like unto like
And veiled conclusions
From those bored and few
Pacing now

It is a hollowness
A Push and Pull
A swollen mass of nothing

And seethe at it
Rage and fight it
Breathe the putrid and new
Hate it

Sharing spaces idly
With unwilling and trite.
Is the sky painted?
Words shared in expanse
On the truly mundane,
But prose and spirit?
Accepted?
HOW?
Contemplate myriads.
Please.
Points previously made
Are to be expanded.
Beauties need to be enamored.
Freedom is a question.
Please see this.

Decide to define the lyric
Sounded long and well
But nothing will be found
Of the crowns broken and not
Of the moon full and new
Lives lived to glory or death
Yet we have pursued
And visions have been born
Bloods have been warmed
But we never touch
So for the failing of our existence
Allow a demand
Color this world

The blade against open skin
Evokes euphoria, bliss.
The cycle of your very being
Emptied of its fuel
Is divinity unmitigated.

To pain openly and well
And see the world bluried
Is a peace.
Black is the slate
And gave you life.

If the form given finds its joy
In all of the darks and heights,
The pitiless sorrows
And ectatic pleasures,
How could one not see?

When I see a beautiful woman I am struck by a series of emotions
First is a sort of divine perturbation
My heart attempts flying as the world forms around her
She is Aphrodite new and perfect, adorned in all the wreathing beauty of this world
A corona of blinding halos sing to me
How I wish this is where it ends
Soon after I am struck with an abject shame
I fear my glance to be misunderstood
If only I could relieve myself of my fetid desires
If only I could live in that divine serene moment
Further after this I feel hollow for I fear I will never be understood
Pain in kind greets my being and I ache in my existence.

Built on solid silent empty
Containing a vague wisp of air
Patterns form for the willing
And in them, beatific solemnity
O praise the deity
Such is the fool’s design
But the better for it
Christ spoke simply
The alternate,
Never.

Man gives form to his world as he chooses.
Any one moment is, by that man, changed and willed as he wishes.
Across one lifetime a man will redefine a moment as many times as he likes to suit the world he finds himself in.
A man finding himself in need of absolution without God will wish beneficence on all moments.
The half foolish man sees the world as it would be without him.
In the cradle of solemn non being he can only find hope.
Through utter unending black he will choose to see hope.
Why?

It is so easy to go your whole life walking the right path with your eyes down looking only at your feet. Those people mostly only look up to fail. They end up very quickly on the wrong path. They spend their time on that path panic stricken walking in circles staring at the world around them. What horror did they not see?