sometimes i begin to write
nothing in mind
i confuse myself
yet am shocked by what i produce

even the creator teaches himself in his own insights

interpret yourself openly, freely
be c o u r a g e o u s

Broken bones, discarded glass
Bodies are buried, hearts reap ash

Beaten black soles
Bleed into the world
Bright stars once hid there

Blazing fires where devil's roam
Burning hate, scorching screams claim home

Boiling skin, bubbling with words that recall days
Before the crisped carriage came

They stare,
Their eyes gaping and mouths gawking
Unfinished.
A mother, a father,
A brother, a sister,
Cemented and immortalized together
Forever.
Generations upon generations
Plastered, stacked, stuck.

They leer upon their visitor,
Welcome to there home,
Twisted and cruel,
Yet their beauty is still seen
French goddesses still upon their thrones
Under their castles.
Their lovers,
Still sophisticated and poised,
Protecting themselves and their maidens.

Underground
The Catacombs.

I want
to stop
writing
these things

But then
another one
shows up

Begging for
garments