And so Cupid's arrow went astray
Soaring across the heavens
Hitting none but the Stars
Who fell burning to Earth
Searching for a love
That did not exist

There is a girl
And she looks like me
And she speaks like me
Some would even say
That she hates like me
But she is not me
She is both fire and frostbite
She is carnal destruction
And blizzard wasteland
A receeding tide heralding doom
And the vast desert heat
We call her the nothing
The nothing that was before
And the nothing that will be after
She is the ice and the flame
And the empty, empty dark
I call her mirror
And she is all that is left

New age folklore tells us
We will find pollution pixies
in the scraped bare remnants
Of houses that were gutted
By an overflowing sea
Their blue skin flecked with mud, and eyes
Red and burning from the chemical stench
Black dogs are just white dogs
Doused in oil and waiting for a flame to catch
They sit outside of graveyards and watch
Not for what has come but what will be
Ten thousand fae women, weeping
As radiation has stolen their fertility
And hunger ravaged their children
Ten thousand changelings with bloated stomachs
And empty eyes
We will tell campfire stories of mannan maclir
And how his whole ocean
Boiled and frothed, the palms of his god-hands
Still too small to contain the damage
His collosal eyes weeping tears that drowned a village
When he saw trawler nets of whales he once taught to speak
Present magic is an ugly thing, tar black and tasting of war
Red caps, with their bleeding heads and wide grins
Are the only true victors in this slaughter
But even they mourn their unseelie cousins
The wild hunt chases oath breakers in their white houses
Those sitting on thrones of corpses
Still shovelling money into stuffed pockets
The dogs are baying and savage, nightmares every one
And no match for every iron bullet that they face
None come back alive
Their pelts are traded with ivory, prices stacked
The heads of dreams now wall decor in overlarge houses
New age folklore is the silent death of every myth and legend
That lended hope under smoggy skies
Magic dies in a blanket of ash
Choking on the dust of indifference

Fever dreamer
restless sleeper
I am a burning star
screaming preacher
lonely schemer
The world is mine
and I devour

It doesn't matter
who you are
I hope that you
will never
have to know
the crippling pain
of someone you love
looking at you
like you
are a stranger

I belong to all the water
That never made it to the ocean
I belong to the falling stars
Cast out of their inky heaven
And I belong to the hidden places
The green grass never seen nor
touched by a careless mortal hand
I exist inside the earth and out of it
My home is a brick house with 4 rooms
But my soul calls to the mountains
To the oceans and the skies
She longs to listen to trees
She longs to sing with the sparrows
She longs
She longs
She longs

Roses at the foot of my bed
All the thorns bleeding ink,
My mother weeps in the room next door
For what she has lost in the winter,
For what remained come the spring.
My bones creak and tremble within me,
The only sound that could still echo in this house
I am a wraith in this place, translucent and trembling
Heart like a casket, but empty,
A ghost of a girl remains, trapped
Inside flesh and sinew, with tragedy
Hidden in the marrow of her.

Roses at the foot of her bed.
The thorns bleeding ink.
The petals falling off.

One moment she's silk
The next she is thorns
Her beauty, ravaged
By a lover's scorn
But the waves in the tide
Will wash her away
And with darkness comes light
And birth, from decay

I feel so threatened
by anyone
who gets close to you
because I know
that they can love you
better than I can
The distance between us
grows more every day
and I don't know how long
until you, or I, let go
I'm hoping it won't happen
but there are those
who won't hurt you
like I will,
In the end.

I stumble, unsteady
Into wakefullness
Feeling charged as a dream
The sunlight pouring in the window
Illuminates my glowing body
Humming with potential
This languid and blissful
Half asleep state, holds me
In a whisper, in a memory
I have two hands of power here :
In one, Promise.
And the other, Hope.
I am a king

I poured every ounce of myself
Into oceans and bath water
And blood and sweat and tears
At the end of all of this
I am finally empty.

I weep for the beat of my heart
Now so foreign and unfamiliar to me
Bird in my ribcage ripping her wings
In the desperate bids to free herself
And flee from the bulbous rotting shadows
That share in her lightless prison
All my blood replaced with oil
And the small bird shrieks as she chokes
Guttural and laboured
But still
No freedom
No release
Only the screams of a dying bird,
The mournful cries of her captor
And the laughter of the shadows
Eating at them both

It was not a quiet agony
I did not sit in silent tears
and let them wash away sorrow
dulling and quenching hurt;
It was burning castles,
crumbling ruins and flaming ghosts
screeching and wailing
reapers rioting amongst hellfire
Cerberus howling and snarling
ripping at the remains of my bruised body
My pain was damnation
It was the Earth ravaged by fire
and the sea, black with oil
I will not be sated

Anguish is a wildfire
and mine will engulf the world