Save me, dear nightmare, from the monster I will become
Your darkness alone can shroud me.
Of blinding sun and free thinkings of the day no more,
Only to the shadows do I profess my intimacy.
Breathe your worst down my neck,
With scratches of your fingernails I implore you to infect
The spotted mind, the burning woman
Lost in her own vagrant fantasies.
Feel her fire coursing in dying veins, for,
You told me once that empty veins do burn.
I’d rather they burn than grow cold from lack of touch,
Explode with misplaced passion than be forgotten for later.
With a dying breath my sanity asks your permission
To be torn to shreds from these beasts in the night
Rather than let you meet that fate.
Take your whorish damsel, your hero friend, your family too
But remember the fiery heart that remained monstrous for you.

There is an ocean I swim in every night.
The water a gentle womb,
My body shrouded and lifted, pressed and forgotten.
I am lost in the waves that roar
The silent water whispering siren songs
That no mortals ask to hear.
There is an ocean that drowns me in my sleep.
Lava pours down my throat and burns my song to ashes,
Raging vengeance that seeks, but never finds, purchase.
I am gone in the bloodless ire
The embers twinkling with the knowledge
That I was once mortal.
There is an ocean where I stand
It is made of fragile glass, constantly shattering
Bleeding wounds cry out against the shards that tear
I feel in the crystalline night
The red stars surrounding my feet remind me
That I still have yet to bleed.
There is an ocean sinking my mind
Freezing water stabbing this intelligence
The assault has a soldier’s cadence and obedience
I perceive no reality in my tangible post
Darkness tracing my features with her loving embrace
That the mortal may fight and rise.

Every morning I see the sun rise.
Opulent, magnificent,
Color splashing on the renewed Earth,
Opalescent wonder reminding onlookers
That color is only a feast for the eyes.
Mountains of clouds break against the ocean ceiling,
Asking the onlookers to dive deeper into the
Depths of the endless, glorious sky.
A master painter could not compare in excellence
Opposed to this ephemeral masterpiece.
Such detail in grandeur,
Holy awesomeness in finesse,
No mark absently fashioned
No stroke of paint unadorned.
Yet beneath this wonder
My heart longs for a sunset with no sunrise.
Let me play my part in the morning’s scene
Rather than sit as the passive onlooker
Never to create such beauty.

And I saw you one day
Burning in the pit of your
Careful mistakes
Dying through wasted breaths.
Every second branded into
Forgotten passion, your
Gross miscalculations apparent on your
Hide.
In that day
Just for a second
Killing you would have been kindness
Left instead to your
Monotony
Not the greatness you deserved.
Only God will remind me how
Painful it was to lose your
Quiet calm, the
Rest you filled my soul with.
Scars support what is left
Tossing me from sleep at night
Under the glaring judgment of stars,
Vindictive in their stares
Weary in their weight
Xenon-like because they don’t exist without
You and I together

But the story isn’t finished and I refuse to submit to structure,
Especially that made by stars that have forgotten what it was like
To be dust.

There are secrets I tell to the demons in my heart
Secrets that had torn me of peace long before they contaminated the air.
My mind screams to shed these weights, the crown of thorns sitting on my brain.
But my lying tongue holds these flames for beings who care not for fire.
Every whisper in the dark echoes these trifles
Every breath exhaled sings of my malice
To my hate, I beg it to leave. Attract other things to replace it.
But my limits are human. Though I strive for wings, only arms remain.
Bare backed and lashed with my own whips.
So I’ll spit on the ground; masochistic to the core.
Dear demons, do not betray my goodness to these angels.
Let them think me, as you, demonic. And therefore, forgettable.

There is beauty on the horizon that I can almost see
A dream dances a breath from my fingertips,
Ghosting in the corner of my eye.
Yet all I find is the winter in my heart and the burning in my throat.
Yet all I see is a watery landscape disfigured through blurred, infected eyes.

This beauty on the horizon calls to me
Leaves forgotten sticky notes that won’t stay put,
Fluttering around the caverns in my mind.
Yet all they do is land in puddles of venom.
Yet all they do is make me pain for what I could be chosen to forget.

That beauty is almost past me now
In search of another lover to spend the night
Or a ***** to pay to hold him for a while.
Yet he doesn’t know what I’d give to be near him without this broken shell.
Yet he doesn’t know how easily we could intertwine and never be broken.

Those beautiful dreams could be mine to hold
Weighing less than a handful of sand,
Phasing more quickly than smoke through the air.
Yet my heart feels knives smirking in the shadows.
Yet my heart has nothing left
        Except to bleed.

The terror sunlight brings makes the shadows of the night
       Mere church mice.
The beautiful, waking seconds more disconcerting than sun showers
       Bathed in certain ambiguity.
The moments engrave their records in our eyes,
       Reminding us of our eternal fixation.
The sleight of hand that brainwashes us in favor of long hours of conviction
       Instead of the truth in a storyteller’s gorgeous fiction.
The lies our sight sings to us are only digging deeper in the soft earth,
       Our graves swallowing us as we breathe and don’t speak.
The dirt of the physical, the mud of the popular and the worms that carry them,
       Knitting through my eyes and ears and mouth and nose.
The sweet suffocation of silence will carry me to darkness again
       Where the church mice and I can plot our escape.