Vanguarded by thrones,  

I am still  

into the wilderness.  

For the serpents,  

they thrive into the darkest souls.  

Dismantled,  

I wish for reigns to come.  

Without power to invade,  

I am no lord.  

(How I wish I were never in a dark descent.)  

For the disciples of the knight,  

they would never come.    

My blood rides the doom,  

Baphomet’s head is on the run  

as I drown myself into Thy scape of aether.  

I thrashed myself the **** down  

and then I ran onto Thy strongest fort  

as I wrote an eulogy about you  

whose life has been overtaken by eagles with decapitated heads.    

WE SCREAM / AS SERVANTS IN REVOLT; / WHO DO YOU THINK  WE ARE—————————    

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I have always loved  

the world I built on my own  

for you used to live in it

as an apprentice of the serpents.

“Your eyes were the only witness to my ****** up past.”

Those were your

last words

And now where are you?

29834328293 842938482948 4898 SYSTEM IS GENERATING A NEW PROJECTION

BEHOLD

FOR THE WARLOCKS

AND THE HELLRAISERS

ARE OUT TO GET YOU

ON A LACERATING SNOWSTORM IN THE NIGHT OF THE YEAR 2002

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I would wake up to blackgaze tunes and kvlt growls everyday and then mentally punch myself in the gut

and your reflection would appear on the mirror conveying that you’re relieved I’m now a pacifist without violence and guns.

A libertine at heart, I could never grow up the way anyone has ever wanted myself to be

that the world is also writing down elusive conundrums that scream at me as if they’re telling me to suffer louder.

And despite the fact that you said my songs were disastrous and blackened crust repulsed you,

it was always you on the front row on my gigs, screaming out loud that I was the only overlord you would sell your soul to.

****** and severely injured, I thought the night you died was my night

where I could finally stop being a servant of the discordant world

for I thought you took me along with you to the transcendental world of death.

Oy vey, what’s left is only the fact that we’re now worlds apart

and the recording of your shoegaze rendition of my last song that you have always described as disastrous.

My flesh is saying that; 1. Thy art is believing in the power of disbelief.

and 2. You dying as a servant has made me feel more enslaved than when I wasn’t on top of the world.

Winter Valkyrie, that’s what my last song’s called.

You loved it; you loved me; and that’s how Winter Valkyrie was born.

Once I was drowning in a belligerent dark despair and I asked you what my existence meant

and then you started singing your favorite part of He Is by Ghost;

“He is

he’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see.

He is

insurrection, he is spite, he’s the force that made me be.”

Just, who am I?

Ever since that day I started calling you Winter Valkyrie

and together, we sought for roads to the altar where we would rule and destroy.

But now here I am only searching for roads to my own demise.

Remembering you, you have always said my songs were disastrous as a denial because you

thought that you didn’t deserve all the songs I dedicated to you.

Nevertheless, Winter Valkyrie,

here and now, my hands would not rest from creating distorted crusts from my guitar if you

just won’t wake up from your death.

You are going to miss people.
You'll catch your wandering afternoon thoughts bumping into old memories
That feel warm at first but then start to sting.
Like the way he called pants "dungarees" and you made fun of him for it every chance you got.
Or the breakfasts you always looked forward to when you stayed over.
Like the corny jokes and those obnoxious glasses with the mustache and nose attached.
Or how he could literally fix anything.
Like when you were crying and he would tickle you until those sobs turned into laughter.
Or the way he looked at grandma and you would think, "That. That is love," even if he would say she had a big **** after.
You are going to miss people.
Their laughter,
Their love,
Their knowledge,
Their love,
Their happiness,
Their love,
Their strength,
Their unconditional love.
You are going to miss people.
But the law of conservation of energy in physics states that energy can neither be created nor be destroyed, but it can change form. I don't know why but that's the first thought that came to my mind when I heard, "he's gone."
Because although he may not be here in the way that he was, he is most definitely still here in other ways. He is the flicker of the lights. He is the smile on your face you catch yourself doing for no reason at all. He is the laughter that makes your head tip back and your cheeks hurt. He is the wind. He is the sun. He is everything. He is loved. He is missed. But he is with us still.

August 6th, 2016; I had a body forced onto me.
His ***** hands grasped my body and pulled my hair.
I said stop with a nervous laugh.
He pushed his hips to my back and started to nibble at my neck.
I turned around and kissed him.
He moaned into my ear and I felt disgusted.
And then he pushed me onto the couch and was on top of me.
I said no.
He pulled at my shirt and bit my lip so hard I could taste blood.
"Our friends are outside, let's go chill with them."
"I'm not interested in your friends," He said while grinding his hips against me.
I said no.
He breathed into my mouth and I forced my head to the side, blocking his fiery tongue.
I squirmed and I pushed.
I said no.
I know for a ******* fact that I said no.

I know sometimes I sound like a black hole,
and my poems are only of unhappiness,
But i swear there are good days.
It's just that if I were to put the good days and the bad days on a seesaw,
The bad days would outweigh the good ones.
Their weight would keep them planted on the ground while the good days float 3 feet above with a smile on their face and a stupid halo around their head,
No fear of the word "fat" or worrying about taking up too much space,
And sometimes the bad days would get so low, they'd take their feet out from under them and hit absolute rock bottom,
Because what's the point of that support if it won't ever be good enough?
What's the point in living a life where nothing you do is ever good enough?
But the impact of the fall is so forceful that the bad days bounce back, Causing the good days to slam onto the ground while the bad days get just a sliver of what it's like to be in the limelight.
Sometimes the darkness needs to have their moment, even if it's only a millisecond long and they end up breaking their tailbone on the fall back.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I seem to have a lot more bad days than good, but I swear I'm okay.
I find the strength to fight back and push the darkness upwards in attempt to save it from its bad reputation.
Turn it into art.
Offer it some adjectives and shiny words to make it feel better.
Share it proudly with the world to show that not every day is a good day.
That most of the time I am a mess
With a head consumed by a thick, dark, fog
Weighing me down so low that my thoughts are being dragged in the dirt on the playground as kids stomp all over me.
Giving me black and blues that only cause me to become darker.
But I will not let the bad days bring me down.
Instead I will bring the bad days up.
Because even the longest, darkest, tunnels have an opening.
Whether it be a small crack, or a staircase of light,
It is this darkness that gives me a purpose.
It is the darkness that gives me a light.
It is the darkness that gives me a voice.

I live in the Yukon with all of my mates.
My grand folks moved north from the You Fried It States
It could be worse.  Got food?  You'll do fine,
but it gets kind of warm past the north B.C. line.
Some get the bug for Tierra del Fuego.
They pack their bags, wait for fall, and then say go.
But, far as I know, the most capable band
lost their resolve after 2 months of sand.
It could well be a several century wait
'til we paddle across the Darien Strait
and finally discover the southerners’ fate.
We probably need equatorial seas
to simmer back down to ninety degrees.

Said the gay man
to the straight man
can we not just be friends

Said the straight man
to the gay man
take hold of my hand

We'll never make it
with this hatred
let us make amends

It's not too late to
say I love you
after all aren't we all kin

Being the family of man
I'm sure we can
live and all let live

Said the straight man
and the gay man
let's bring hatred to an end

Lacking the finishing touch
To show you how I feel
For once,
don't be so weak
I feel fine-
but, I lied.

(chorus)
It's dark out
A shame to cry out
Bury myself alive
For there isn't much to stand for
That's how it will be-
A cruel wanting

So lost without my place inside
So much in my way
Took a risk
To sense the-
beginning breeze

(Chorus)

"I don't need you"
I keep saying
But I really want you to understand;
What these scars mean
Were were all once a team

Glare at what you can't hide
Quit lying to yourself
Do you feel the emptiness set in?

(Chorus) 2X

Lacking the finishing touch,
I feel fine-
but I lied.
We were once a team...