Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
A haunted heart
With the eternal
Ghost of you.
The creative mind can be strange place
You can create the most captivating beauty
And the darkest monsters imaginable
Sometimes I think
Anxiety makes me a bad person
But I'm too depressed to fix it

I did something wrong once
I take that as a solidifying truth
For my abhorrence
There is no happy or poetic ending for this one.
III
I lost myself
In the flash of darkness
And I'm much to weary
To find her again
Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.
 Sep 2020 Splashes of Surreal
Red
I saw a predator in the bathroom mirror
or perhaps it was just confident prey
1090

I am afraid to own a Body—
I am afraid to own a Soul—
Profound—precarious Property—
Possession, not optional—

Double Estate—entailed at pleasure
Upon an unsuspecting Heir—
Duke in a moment of Deathlessness
And God, for a Frontier.
721

Behind Me—dips Eternity—
Before Me—Immortality—
Myself—the Term between—
Death but the Drift of Eastern Gray,
Dissolving into Dawn away,
Before the West begin—

’Tis Kingdoms—afterward—they say—
In perfect—pauseless Monarchy—
Whose Prince—is Son of None—
Himself—His Dateless Dynasty—
Himself—Himself diversify—
In Duplicate divine—

’Tis Miracle before Me—then—
’Tis Miracle behind—between—
A Crescent in the Sea—
With Midnight to the North of Her—
And Midnight to the South of Her—
And Maelstrom—in the Sky—
1276

’Twas later when the summer went
Than when the Cricket came—
And yet we knew that gentle Clock
Meant nought but Going Home—
’Twas sooner when the Cricket went
Than when the Winter came
Yet that pathetic Pendulum
Keeps esoteric Time.
1583

Witchcraft was hung, in History,
But History and I
Find all the Witchcraft that we need
Around us, every Day—
Next page