If this should be my fond farewell
I will go down fighting
sending me back home
back to the city of the dead

Back to my home of the black flag
returning to my warrior home in glory
they await their killing machine
in my sweet city of the dead

The hate machines will line the streets
there will be screams of mad intent
and the hero's of yesterdays will kneel
all will be mine in the city of the dead

The fighter elite will spill their cold blood
to the glory of my return
and I will sit back on my throne
in my city of the dead

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

there was a time,
in the trodden snow,
on a path
i would oft follow,
there was a moment
i could sense the kiss
i could feel the soft touch
of your fingertips.
but that moment is long gone
as are you
the snow has melted
ground is a soft green hue
and i cannot go back
oh, how i try
i cannot recreate
what there was between you and i.

So what does it mean
when I cannot find
anyone who thinks
like me?

I treasure those eyes the best, so lovely each night. Long lashes fluttering with your trademarked twisted elegance. I trace your skinny hips and kiss your scarlet  lips, we lay  close and and whisper across the quiet divide. I sit  inhaling smoke and exhaling pretty words that roll off the tip of my tongue, sliding down the floor boards. Drinking, spinning in sickly sweet light. I can tell  them, always trusting the people I meet, dancing to the sweet spot. Wicked am I, missing the saunter of those long lovely  legs. Trapped a loop of taunting, teasing laughter. We all talk crazy, tangled and comfortable in each others hair, this is the closest to perfection I've ever been.

I'd like to die trying to make
Forever last forever

Your back looks like a brick wall
after climbing out from bed,
my fingernails give less scars than what
a blanket or two can do.

Do you
wrap them around your neck
while you sleep, do
you love them more than me?

I would give you my arms if you didn’t
already have them.