I still can't go there.
To that little swatch of grass
bathed in sunlight
without even a dappling of shade
It seems like a  green field of memories
with almost no one left to remember
Even the words  subscribed on the tiny brass plaques
seem somehow belittling  
With them set into the ground
for the convenience of mowers
to pass over
It makes her seem
so inconsequential
that she shouldn't trouble the groundskeeper
with her monument
It makes me think of the mundane consequences of death
that overshadow the greatness of life
Like the simple economics
of  maintenance
I can't look at the life of such a beautiful women
summed up in such a small way
it seems  so common
so trite
I know that she would have told you
that she was common
but she wasn't
She had a greatness in her soul and being
that transcended the normal
that transcends death
I am overwhelmed by that little plaque
and it's insignificance
Enough to paralyze me from going there
I know that if I see it it will push
the other memories from my mind  
and supplant her
She will become a place in a cemetery
with a little map on the grounds keeping shed
gridded and numbered
number 6 in row B
a little part of the order in a small field
and I can't have that

I require no company
save those that gather
'round the warmth
of my fire.
Late at night
hushed talk floats
in the chill air
like wisping tendrils
of smoke.
Faint firelight gropes
at the surrounding darkness
after imparting
it's warmth.
Hours burn as embers
and laughter flickers
like flames.

It comes within the dark of moon,
black wind whispering 'neath leather wings.
Seeking, searching the scent of life,
with eyes that pierce the deepest gloom,
the fog of clouds with clearest sight.
A scream that shatters, rents and wrenches,
ripping gashes in the cold clear night.
Nostrils flaring, lips a' curling,
eyes that glare with hungers fire.
Teeth of ivory, polished, ground;
on the bones of men, finely honed.
I lay upon the cold hard earth,
my body white against the dark.
So frail and soft with warm blood churning,
deaths desire, stomachs yearning.
The beast it swirled about my head,
circled, swooped,certain death,
talons reaching, grasping, ripping.
I screamed in terror as my world went red.

I wear sorrow as a shroud

A grey and tattered garment

Worn thin by time

Stained by pain of the past

A tattered cloak that covers me

Dragging on the ground

Pulling small trails

In the dust of time

Soon I will throw it off

For it weighs me down

And I will let the sun

Fall on me again

You should sulk away in shame. You are a bottom feeder pretending to be predacious. Life has shown  that in the order of life you will rapaciously lick the lips of the alpha every time . You mistake your pretension for power, and you and only you make that mistake. Don’t think that any other believes that you are anything more than the absolute bottom of the order. You can cry to all who will listen about your greatness and only the most ignorant will believe; For a while.    Your attempts to empower yourself by belittling others is a pathetic attempt to cover your own inadequacies. Maybe you haven’t realized yet that they can’t be covered, that everyone really can see you for whom you are.    I am amazed that something would mate with you. I can’t believe that one of your slightly more pretentious peers has not taken her from you yet. You are a disgusting example of a human being. You are petty, jealous and cowardly. You are the very definition of anthropomorphism.; You have been attributed with human traits without actually having them. You are lower than an animal and are pathetic.

One day I stopped believing In you

No longer did your smile

Or your lies of love matter

Your bittersweet words

Lost their sweetness

Your smile mocked

Your lies

Became lies

The taste of her skin

will not leave my mouth

Her musky scent

will not

let me rest

I cannot function

without

having her

Her *******

become

wet Goddesses

between my lips

I pray to her

******* softly

and give myself

to her

I sacrifice

at her altar

Asking for

her pleasure