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Grey Sep 2015
Artemis
my Lady
though she belongs to none
light of the Moon
frowning down upon
the empty land
and lowered mounts
the ten pointed Star
crowns her head
and comets string her bow
Her arrow pierces
the center of my forehead
and I am Made new
made eternal
until my blood
feeds the cereus
that blooms only
at Night
Grey Sep 2015
I would rip apart your throat
with my teeth
and
swallow down your blood.
My mouth works through
muscle and
tendons and
bone.
My claws grow slowly,
as do my fangs,
and my appetite.
It cannot be sated.
I am Wihtikow,
less than man,
less than beast,
more dangerous
than both combined.
Grey Sep 2015
thoroughly the world keeps turning
deep inside you feel the yearning
churning deep inside, the need to return to the sea
Grey Sep 2015
stormy eyes under
a brow which lends itself
to a countenance most severe
a missing calm
in the midst of a storm
when bitterness surrounds me
and i am blown away
unable to stand my ground
and a sinking feeling
wracks my body
when i feel
useless
i have to remember
that you would still
be proud of me
even though
i am not
proud
of
myself
Grey Sep 2015
my Self is a bird - fluttering
lightly, scared of
the Beast which rears it’s head
and roars in my ear
Fear itself!
Grey Sep 2015
You said that you didn't believe in anything,
but that you believed in me.
In truth, I believe in you more than I say.
I see more in you than I say.
When you fight me, fight so hard against hope, I see you.
I do not know what you have been through.
I do not know what has been done to you.
I do not know how to tell you
that your belief in me
means more than
the fire on your tongue,
or the laughter in your eyes,
or the darkness that you draw from me.
Though you do not apologize with words
you do
with softness in your eyes,
and the brush of rough fingers against my arm in passing,
the curve of my neck lovingly sketched with graphite,
You say that you would die for me,
but I do not want you to.
I would have you live,
vibrant and happy,
laughing,
the bottle lying forgotten in a corner,
your hand in mine,
breathing in the scent of turpentine;
because I would like to believe in us.
Grey Aug 2015
I said that I would black your boots when,
in reality,
I would do so much more.
When I say the things I do.
the terrible words that I see douse the lights in your eyes,
I cannot help it.
They flow from my mouth like wine from a bottle,
a bitter cognac into a cup,
and though your flame should sometimes be fostered by the alcohol,
at times it is too much.
For that, I apologize.
I would be better for you.
I would fight your battles,
be the brunt of every joke,
be the example of those who do not care,
take any punch your enemies might throw.
I would believe.
I would feel passion enough to believe in something.
I believe in nothing,
but
I believe in you.
In your light and darkness,
in your speech and silence,
in your disbelief in me.
I said that I would black your boots when,
in reality,
I would die for you.
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