In the chair he played,
His muscles burned with his pain.
It was always constant,
The needless burning of his nerves.

Fingers curled he played,
There was enjoyment in the music.
It erased the pain and the sadness ,
The that the many scars of his nerves gave him.

Then he was gone

17 and gone in the last beat of the hearts
we cried happy birthday
But he wasn't the only one
What of the one teacher?

You helped him play through the pain,
While you yourself suffered,
How soon were you torn from us too?
Its all to soon.

You know their will be a final symphony,
they wont let you go without the notes.
draped on your shoulders like wings,
Angels of the band.

You both were pillars of strength,
And we all remember and sing and play.
For the good don't just die young,
They are set free of their suffering.

And we love you,
Let the symphony play.
I will cry for the man i barley knew,
For he helped the one I loved.

Tell me wistful wisteria,
Why do you shed those regal tears?
Is it for a fallen child,
A bud of love so dear?

Can you tell me violet crier,
Why flows your petaled pain?
Did you lose a lover?
Does it hurt to speak their name?

Or wisteria, darling tear stained one.
Is this glumness misconceived?
Does happiness reprieve just hold you,
and bring you to your wavering knees?

Today I broke my favorite teacup,
So i buried it outside.
One day I hope,
Will grow a teacup tree,
And I will watch them come to life.

The fleeting fox red and coy
A creature of false unbridled joy
It's legs through dieing leafs do fleet
Behind its face is true deceit
In the light its gleaming ebony eyes
Are filled with truly sinister drives
Almost cheshire is it's smile
A haunting topping to all it's guile

Do you know the darling Abigail?

She lives inside my mirror.

The little ****** girl,

With the wicked smile so queer.

Do you know the darling Abigail?

She laughed and smiled and danced.

The she beauty beheld at once,

Did leave me so entranced.

Abigail is in my head,

She’d never been before.

The ****** beauty lies there,

Smiling calmly on the floor.

Oh behest the silent beauty,

She creeps beneath the bed.

In solemn mocking silence,

She crawls inside my head

I regret that faithful night of poisons,

The dancer i did betray.

It was never my intention,

to send Abigail to her grave.

I guess there is no repenting,

There’s nothing i can do.

At night i feel her cold dark hands,

And her smile of  “how dare you.”

I live inside these walls.

I know no other way.

They are as cold as steel,

And keep the light at bay.

I’m not alone however,

There’s tens of us in here.

Locked in solitude,

But never lost to fear.

Then one day a wall did open,

And we scattered to the winds.

Flapping wings of amber glass.

Free of the walls, but lost of friends.

In that instance I gained such freedom,

But we lost our power.

The world for our togetherness.

Oh look a flower.

When the silence speaks volumes
I will molt away
reborn with brilliant wings
of silken brown and gray

It started with a series of drips
A pool of sky's water slipping beneath the heavy door
From six floors up it fell
Flinging itself off ones step and then another
A thousand tiny waterfalls rushed
Falling and dancing down six concrete stories
Serine light bouncing as it cascaded
Littering the almost cobalt walls in a reflective show
The greatest beauty in the decrepit city
Seen by the lost boy sitting in the stairwell.

I saw a 100 lonely symbols
Come together at a tree
Cracking open all at once
Together they scream

The flavor of the air is tense,
I am plagued in these unsafe streets.
They are hidden but I know they hunt me,
I can feel them tearing at my in most brain.

How many shots do I have?
I cannot remember when confronted with pure unmasked terror.
An ankh like shadow protrudes slightly
One bullet spent.

The pharaoh looking man dropped to the ground,
His curled fingers clutch his tools.
But he is dead with black blood dripping,
However it is still not safe.

I can hear the delicate footsteps,
they echo along the brick walls..
Calling ahead of the dainty voice,
that sings prayers of madness.

I lie in wait.
Maybe I can jump her,
**** her before she me,
Or maybe I am a fool.

She rounds the lit corner,
and drops her frail veil.
What a bloated beastly thing she becomes,
with tentacles flowing from her mouth.

Wandering close I wonder if she can smell me,
For I am drenched in the fear of all things.
This night is one of horrors,
The worst that Arkham ever offered.

As she bends down to my level,
Groaning as she meets me.
I shot before the tentacle could gather,
Around my fleshy throat.

I missed the fatal blow,
she took off at a giggling run into the night.
As I chased after her,
Horror found me once again.

This time it came as a dark skinned man,
with the hoofs of a beast.
My trembling gun in hand ,
He responded with a finger to his lips.

I began to waiver in my steadiness.
He smiled a wicked smile,
4 words floated through the air,
" The Dark Avatar is coming".

Courage resumed its timid grasp,
And I put a bullet in his gut.
It spilled open as he laughed,
A wry corrupting laugh.

Out of his stomach feel as shining jewel,
And out of it came a bat like beast .
Screaming chaos to the winds,
Cracking my heart and mind.

There flew the Haunter of the Night.
A Malicious creature of atrophy and leathery wings .
I shot again and again and again,
Until the last tick where no bullet fired.

As I back away from the circling monster,
I felt something slimy grab me from behind.
Constricting me till breathing became a luxury,
All faded and I lost track of the world.

I wake with the a foul breeze wafting over me
Above me stood a hunched and twisted figure.
From its mouth were a hundred teeth,
And a tongue drench in the reddest blood.

It dragged me along the ground,
To the darkest bend of the forest.
There I could hear chanting,
that held me tighter than this beast with a ****** tongue.

When We rounded the corner ,
I dug my bloodstained fingers into the moody ground.
It was to no avail however,
The figures round the fire were loomed ever closer

The fire played with their shadows is strange unearthly ways.
As they chanted praises to the crawling chaos.
Maniacs danced playing wilde flutes of bone,
And the dark priests turned to face me.

I was stripped and bound by ropes tied to posts,
A sacrifice of naked flesh.

Out of the Shadow of the flames loomed  the form
The beast of thousand  tattered minds,
The god of a thousand forms ,
My heart and mind both shattered .

And I was devoured wholly.

I had a guest to dinner,
It was a Nietzch ghost.
The ghost brought with him five volumes,
A stranger barring gifts in the night.
In civility i poured him tea and examined these books.
The first book was a Book of Contradictions.
A book that called for morality and peace,
But it was laid in the path of genocide and hate.
A disheartening tale of the Gott that grew to the point of oppression.
The second book was titled the Tot of Gott.
A book of the slaying of the oppressor.
The fall of the mighty by the disenfranchised man,
In its effort to cover all, the controller spread himself to the point of destruction.
The third book was the Book of Cosmic Emptiness.
A book of a speck, a book of existential glory.
It showed however grand our perspective,
We are small and empty.
The fourth book was a Book of Mirrors.
In it i saw everything and nothing.
The world around me was so clear,
But i knew nothing of myself.
The final book was the most perplexing.
Unlike the book of mirrors it was empty as the “o”.
Page after page of emptiness, lonely of words,
Save the corner of the last page which said “Your Tale”
I looked up and the ghost smiled,
A bizarre smile of accomplishment.
It took Its tea and softly rose, for the door.
It never said a word but why would it.
I wonder what my tale will be.

All those lost nights,
Waiting for nothing to save me.
In this cold shell,
A casket in it’s own way.
Pale and empty,
A porcelain doll of displacement.
Eyes so cold,
That nothing i saw could dismay.
Left in silence,
In hollow and empty salvation.
Nothing for me,
But a calla lily in hand.
Sad though it seems,
I’m saved from utter destruction.
From the one who sends dolls to their grave.
This abandonment is the the truest peace.

Outside the window falls the summer snow.
Their lives held in a wistful dance,
Held in the winds careless grasp,
They seem almost trapped in a melancholy waltz.

Do they too dream of freedom,
Or do they have it all along?

For the summer snow is filled with the seeds of dreams.
Blown from their homes with childish ambition.
Though the wind may hold them at first
Those tiny dreamers decide to flourish and bloom

If they can be free,
Then can we?

Do I know the strength of me?
I doubt i do.  
I sit in the wake of a tide; amongst the ebbs and flows.
As i sit upon the grainy sand i wonder what strength do I have in this life.
What strength do I have to exist and to change?

Am i the thread in the needle,
Weaving ever forward in the faith that the weaver knows its course?
Am I the pine that towers tall in the forest,
That is lost in my brothers never blooming?
Or am I the paper boat,
Sent on its mission, etched with purpose and on a course?

I’d like to think i am the third or at least a prelude to it.
For the paper boat is filled with its own hopes and dreams.
Without these things do i have the right to exist?
I’d like to live among the paper boats.

Tear my skin
Spill my blood
Rip my flesh
Make me numb
As i fall
And breathe anew
I grow no wings
Ive lost my feud
Arisen now
A fallen one
I have no mean
An angel of none

In the storming chaos of blades,
I fell upon the battlefield of malice and might.
The menace before me arching his crooked smile,
And whispering sweet everything's to my ear.

In the blood stained dawn i was born anew,
Even as his cold pale hands caressed my cheek.
Madness dripped from his eyes velvet eyes,
As I burned vengeful in my heart

I arose the, ashen angle of victory.
With the wave of my hands i burned them all,
The enemy that stormed forth,
And those I swore to protect.

A unfathomable beauty of unparalleled power.
Like M i became a great destroyer,
An Echelon by another name.
I am forever now a wanderer of valor.

The Great Antithesis of the Mashochrist.

The sun has fallen and the stage is set,
Draped in thoughts and things that will never be.

How will we remember these nights,
These nights of disorder,
Nights of chaos,
Nights that never truly relinquish their hold?

Where stars scar the sky in their albino epitaph ,
And the candles lick the tepid darkness.
Petals on the floor become kicked and soar,
As the dancers waltz forever in time.

They, like the rest of us, know not why they are here,
Every 30 steps they stop and restart.
It is as if they are never there,
Just memories pressed against stage.

Memories that only wish to fade.

Today i noticed a metallic spot upon my hand.
It was cold to the touch,
And as i removed it i noticed it was an needle.
A needle of impossible length for the space provided.
When it was removed i discovered there was a third eye hidden in my hand.
It opened slowly as if it had been asleep for an immeasurable time.
As it opened i saw things beyond my wildest dreams.
I saw great cities beyond me in all directions,
People above and beneath me,
The wars of past and yet to come,
I saw the beautiful awakening of the ocean of stars,
And i saw it all end at the hands of the glass toothed beast.
Before the eye had wholly opened, i reinserted the needle.
I didn’t think i could handle all the reality laid out before me.
I felt that being a spec in reality would be safer than the alternative,
to be enveloped by its crawling chaos.

Silence
Silence everywhere
A world of myst and trees
A world of no one, nothing, not a solitary dream
A creature walked before me
It’s skin as grey as stone
A creature of no gender
A creature of no home
It was naked as the night was cold
Veiled by an inverse wing
Not metallic nor of feather
A transcendental ethereal thing
I asked it all my questions
And it spoke not a word
I asked it for redemption
And i heard just the sound of birds
It took me by the hand in silence
Warped me in its wing
I finally saw the truth of all
As the Albatross did scream
It was no messiah
No god with beard of white
Just protection of the watcher
The Albion in the night

Fever
Chills
And coughing pains
I can not write
I am sick again

It feels so strange to look back on those days
The simple time when play was common
And laughs were but a word away
But in these last few years you have been so far
Past Charon's cold ravine , upon a cliff  bathed in stars.

Each year I wonder, wish and dream.
That your memories of me were held serene
Tainted not by the crippling pain
The fights, the running, and secret shames
Filled witty banter and bizarre reprieves

Brother. How I've missed you so.
The years they creep and memories fade
Despite my love, my pleads to know
That in that wretched day of loss
Your heart was left unscathed

For in my cruelest darkest times
When my eyes started cold and glazed
Where leaving bed made atlas falter
When fear left me but a window's flight away
You smiled and shone the way

How many days went and came
With that scribble not upon your picture frame
Hoping for just one exchange
And promising I would take your place
Promising to take the pain

Despite all the things that I have wanted
All the times that I have missed
I'd tear this world asunder
Pull down the stars and blacken the sky
Just to see your crooked smile

Upon many days of silent pages I set forth on a journey.
I followed the river behind my house until I came to a lovely delta.
It was littered with papyrus plants  of a myriad of lengths.
I stepped into the silt on the banks, so cold and soft.

I wanted to wash away this wall of black silence.
Its strange that such words could bring me such solace,
But their silence would  only cause me anguish.
As i stepped back onto the opposite shore, I had arrived.

My goal was the piano that I had left here long ago.
Rough and nicked, it had long been left to the elements.
I sat upon the withered bench among the papyrus.
I began to play, playing to break the silence.

On sweet rigid keys I played notes of bizarre power.
It was out of tune from its long excursion in nature,
But that didn't mater. The notes held their own.
The strange sounds matched my strange writes.

With these notes that danced and  evoked such might,
I hoped to speak of the things I could not write.
It was power beyond will and might beyond majesty.
These thoughts and sounds would make Enoch proud.

Experimental*

He was a beauty in a dress.
Fallen
He was the queen of all that he saw.
He never knew of the hate.
Goodbye
Born of fear so obscene.
They had tongues like hemlock
Halo
Knives dripped in atrophy.
He became the man in the coffin.
Ignite*
A transvestite stripped of all meaning.

How ticks the ebony clock,
With its incessant back and forth?

There is no harmony in me,
The mirror tells me so itself.

Blank,
So blank,
The cold pale reflection of the nothing I embody.

I have found that its only when I smash the mirror that the real me appears.

Among the trickles of blood from my hand,
And the tens of glistening shards.

I see myself
Every me.

Not distortion,
The portion of me that can be seen.
I see every me that ever was reflecting on the floor.

Only by twisting and breaking the false self,
Can the real self be absolved.

Stumbling in my door,
Lurching from wall to wall,
Crashing against the frames etched like keys of black and white.

Inside my mind i can hear such impossible notes.
With each collision they ring,
Crashing dissonance of the day.

These bitter notes should never have met.

They shake me as I succumb on the floor,
Before the great ring of white,
The home for the things i can not contain.

The sound of my loss and my blood,
Overborne by the chaotic fugue of the colliding keys.
There is no peace in these painful nights.

As they sped I became empty and forever at rest.

Spring has dawned,
The air runs free,
Some hearts grow ripe,
Like fruit on trees.

Spring has bloomed,
The light runs fair.
For words we speak,
Flutter softly in the air.

Not all of us have the heart to love,
Not all of us are freed.
To some love is a blessing,
To others it is a bitter ****.

They writhe eternal
snakes with corkscrew tongues
weaving falsities and complex deceit
but they fall like molten lead

even when cool to the touch
after much time and tear soaked nights
they are still so toxic
that love can not be received

i am in essence the nettle
simple yet deceptive
poisonous to the touch
and better left alone

I fell in love with an abstract creature.
She said goodbye to her terra bonds.
No more a lainic slave to the earth,
She was beautiful.
She was different beyond belief,
A spark of greatness in a crumbling world.
Her eyes were fields of green,
In this concrete prison.
One day she called me over,
Said she had something special.
She unhinged her jaw,
and in her mouth was a white flower.
It was an odd thing to behold,
And i might have been disturbed,
Except there was something written on a petal.
All it said was i love you.

If I handed you a Rose petal
What would you see?

The thought behind the effort
or the action so pristine?

Would you miss the other petals
their beauty never seen?

And what of the forgotten thorns
That pain you'll never feel?

Every day I sipped at inspirations golden cup,
And words just seemed to come to me.
The power of them filled my heart,
Making me feel so serene.

Then one day the cup fell empty,
Not a single drop would flow.
The words now faded, left me hopeless,
Like a wanderer lost in snow.

I miss my Deliahla
The happiness she bore
She greeted me every morning
Every night when I'd come home
I'd miss her even more

A beauty bore in hues of blue
Here eyes were white as snow
But one day she had to go
She was smoothing the way
a decision overflown with woe

I had to chop her down
I cut in frowns that day
no more would i see her
no more morning grace
Delilah beauty gone away

My morning glory is no more

There are four walls in all.
Six if you include the ceiling and floor.
It’s all i have here,
these walls.
They are what support me.
There isn’t any door.
There isn’t any sound,
Just thoughts in here.
I don’t know of the outside.
If there is one i haven’t seen it.
For me these walls are the world.
In here absolution is everywhere.
I am everything in this place.
I am everything in this world.

Laying in the grassy field,
I wonder how it would be to paint the sky.
Using my many brushes to smear the canvas,
Making clouds of colored chaos,
Like paint that strays to far from the brush.
A skypainter who can lay beauty to the world,
Then simply lie back and smile.

Let us inject ourselves with ink.
From the pens into our vein.
Together we will be kings and queens of make believe.
And tellers of the things of dreams.

I craft my hopes in a halo,
Put it in my eye.
That way i can always see them.
But there always in disguise.

I talked to someone today who made me feel extremely self conscious about my writing so i decided to retool what i posted today. Let me know if you like this version better**

This is the last night I'll see you.
Soon i will miss you,
Rain be-speckled your tender cheeks.
Will you indulge a kiss,
To wash away our sorrows?

There is nothing beyond us tonight,
A feeling to halt the world.
Sickness, a near pox of the heart.

The distance will seem so great.
Do you think the sun  misses the moon,
As they sway from each others embrace?
Only to meet again as they eclipse,
As they collide together.

Into such tender eyes i confessed,
The smile i loved to bear witness too,
Roses adorning the tint of your cheeks.

I will miss you,
Melting under the touch of my lips.
You are perfection
I will never forget this night.
Am i to fade away. a ghost in the snow?

These are the children of love.
They burn like a swarming inferno,
Tending flowers of passion, of loss.
Born just to fade.
They are beautiful as spun glass,
Clockwork concoctions.
In an instant they’ll be here,
In the next they’ll be shattered.
They are all just children of love,
Living in the Kinderfield.
They wait to be picked up,
Knowing it’s often for not.

This is the last night I'll see you.
Soon i will miss you,
Rain be-speckled your tender cheeks.
Will you indulge a kiss,
To wash away our sorrows?

The distance will seem so great.
Do you think the sun  misses the moon,
As they sway from each others embrace?
Only to meet again as they eclipse,
As they collide together.

I will miss you,
Melting under the touch of my lips.
You are perfection
I will never forget this night.
Am i to be but a ghost in the snow?

Shall I tell you of the beast I’m seen in my dreams
A strangeness vast and vile
For in the nights where Morpheus weeps
it visits me with vengeful smiles

I know I should no fear such things
Dark fancy found in far off sleep
But for months in haunts my nights repose
In my mind it seems to creep

But I fear my words will fail to paint
A picture of the beast most foul
They are strangers beyond nature
vile absurdities on the vengeful prowl

This beast that stalks my nightly terrors
has the face of any earthly dame
but there the similarities cease
for beneath the neck is a hideous frame

It spine seems to extend to unnatural length
As if it cobbled by perverse hand
and its spine is bare and profuse with strings
A strange sight in any natural land

It walks of four hand with fingers long and pale
Put two of them reach back in horror
And pluck the spinal strands and sings
I promise this is no dream laced error

Sings maybe to kind a word for this
But I lack a more right one
However as each notes rings out
its jaw becomes undone

Some nights I can stay far away
others it can taste its breath
this nightmare beast of unknown lands
perhaps is but a harbinger of death.

On those nights it draws so close
I see the strangeness in such clarity
Its skin is taught and knotted
and its sings with deft severity

That make me wonder If my days draw near
If its Opaled eyes as white as milk
Have come to whisk me far away
to a place of darkness with its phantom ilk

To land where madness chord is rung
where I will breath no longer
To silence of the Thantatos’s door
Or is this too dark to ponder