True love,
True love is me loving my self from bone to skin
From marrow to flesh
True love is me
Appreciating myself
Even when I'm not at my best

My delicate sleeper has a twisted mind,
tales of his soulmate weaved with a soft terror that fails to shake his soul.
Surrounded by soulless figures with no character.
Floating.
Chanting.
Their knives of satan embedded deep within kin.

My delicate sleeper has a twisted mind,
the beautiful gold embroidery enclosed in an attractive horror.
His eyes hold the blue of holy water,
his dreams hold the blades of lucifer.

I love it.
I love my little delicate sleeper.
I wouldn't have him any other way.

Dear muse
This goes out to you
Whether the world knew it
You're a real person
Instead of this fiction
But the truth:
If you were fiction
You couldn't have hurt me

We spent 6 long years together
Forming our bond, growing close

You were not just someone to me
Not anyone could
Make me feel like this
You are EVERYTHING to me

You are the only
one in seven billion
To make me feel real

Without you my
Body exists with a mind adrift
The sad thing is
If you come back to me
I'll welcome you
Straight to my arms
Since you
Never left my heart

perfect doesn't matter if you can't love
                          but love doesn't matter
        if it isn't perfect

that's why there's scars where scabs used to be
                                  perfect doesn't matter if you can't hate
hate doesn't matter if it isn't
                                    mindless

nonsense
                                     gone fence
                                                                              con cents

perfect doesn't love if it isn't matter
                             matter isn't perfect if it doesn't
                                              LOVE

one two three four five six seven, eight nine

one who sees your knives picks heaven, hate mine

                                                  I love you like Lasceration

Slippery confusion is all there is sometimes
When you look at life as something
That is supposed to make sense
Drown it in liquor or cover with kisses
Only that which is unfelt
Can be truly controlled

My heart's floundering
Unwilling to trust my mind
And its perceptions

Wind chimes of white bone
Play gently on the porch
An empty chair rocks beside them
As a breeze lifts through an abandoned home.
And did I not rise from your touch
A warm sun on a forgotten stem,
Awakened a breath within
The tip of a finger; the memory from our skin.

The little angel sits in silence
drops pebbles into the well.
Contemplating what state now
will befall both Heaven and Hell.

Little angel toes touch gently
water fresh and freezing
as a gentle southern breeze
brush her neck, kind and pleasing

The war is raging, she knows
a moment she knew would come.
She blesses in peace her sanctuary
where she can be alone.

Far away, the noise of battle
where fiends of carnage dwell.
Five jagged arrows she pulls from her body
then drops into the well.