Compared
to my Fall from Heaven,
well,
that hurt far less
than falling in love
with you.

Evoke the reflection, see only candor, you seldom cry- have you no shame?
I cannot console you as you engage in this feud- the mirth of your eyes clouded with smoke, can you see? But of course not!
You move, languid, with the wine in your skull- where is your chariot, maiden? Where is your shame?
Have you none? But of course not!
You shan't walk free, for you have succumbed so easily- and with what risk? Was it worth it? But of course not!
Gold embroidered in the finest silk caresses your *****, a veil hides your tears- but alas, your soul is raw and ragged- why has thee left it loft in the sea?
The vernal land smells of petrichor- the stream runs eager! Where have you gone, what have you done? Have you run, one of seven brides to be wed? Have you no shame? But of course not!
Shall we await your return? But of course not!

i used to hold my head high
my stance filled with pride
but now my neck is aching
because I keep looking back.

A white fabric,
a curtain, perhaps?
I'm not sure.
It's covered with dust
that floats in the air
of the sunlit room
as I pull it off of my most
prized possesion.
Just the same as I remember;
ivory keys in perfect shape,
ebony keys in between.
A black glaze painted expertly
on fine sprucewood.
The keys are cold
against my fingertips
as they drift mindlessly,
creating song.

You would like me to brood
while you remain aloof,
how is this fair, I ask?
What would you like me to do?

I threw a little wish in the well,
you ask and ask but I'll never tell,
so you dove in and I watched as you fell
your loss, I bid you farewell.

Stay calm,
close your eyes,
relax.

You needn't worry of what is to come,
do not fret.

You need only breathe slowly,
smell the sandalwood,
and enjoy the moment.

You used to ask me
why I wore shades indoors,
and I never told you
I wouldn't, I couldn't.

But now that you've left,
I suppose I can say;
I wouldn't, I couldn't
let anyone see the truth
in the mirth of my eyes;
The sorrow they held
so desperately;
The tears and cries,
the skeletons and lies;
I couldn't let them see
what hurt me.

white hot flames
lick my skin;
brimstone, hot like molten metal,
caresses my feet,
burns my heel;
i will walk,
I won't stop,
not until i arrive
in hell.

the wind blows grains of sand
hopping from the shore
before the waves swallow them whole
and the sea steals their souls.

Roll the dice,
see how many times
you'll be hurt.

do you ever
just wanna say
"**** it"?
yeah, me too,
but we can't.
we gotta keep going,
and i'll be your shoulder to cry on.

In all the debris,
the black and white of the world,
I swear I'll do better,
I swear I'll sport colour.

She sits upon the roots
of the wise oak tree.

"Tell me, what must I do?" she asks hopefully.

"I cannot answer your query, for I do not know what you should do,
but I know someone who could help you." the oak responds.

"Well, who?"

"The Universe."

The crow stood tall
on the brick wall,
it watched me cry
it watched me fall.
All the corpses,
all the pain,
I'd never see life,
never again.

poison needn't come from a chalice,
it can come from words,
full of malice,
a strum of cords.

a reddening whip
on your back with a belt,
provoking hot tears
that could make copper melt.

I tend not to compare
my expectations to reality
because I would see the same thing
each and every time.

We may try to put water in a mold,
to shape it forever without letting it freeze.

Impossible.

It will drift quickly upon a river,
fall fast when shooting out of a faucet,
sail openly on cold metal
and sink when in contact with fabric.

Water has no form, yet it possesses one of the most
magnificent beauties of our world.

One plays the acoustic
with the potential of a genius,
writing lyrics
as thoughtful as himself,
but he is blind
to his magnificence.

Were we ever free,
with the boats carrying us unwillingly
over the sea?

Were we ever free,
whips splintering our backs,
slashed like cutting boards?

Were we ever free,
working until our knees gave out
for the fear of being punished by aristocracy?

Were we ever free,
knowing or not that we'd lose our children
to the hands of greedy men?

Were we ever free,
crying our eyes out, holding the hand of a corpse
asking it to speak?

Were we ever free,
will we ever be?

when I die,
tie me to the stake
like the witch I am.
surround me with copper wire
and light me on fire
as you gaze upon the emerald flames
and my soul crosses the threshold.

I'd rather die by the hands of an assassin
using a rusty arrow or a dull blade
than allow you
to take my maidenhood.

Every move you make is erratic,
I keep guessing what you might do next,
but you keep circling my head
like a halo of such tedious decisions.
You entertain a quiet, somber demeanor
and remain smugly volatile.
You are capricious.

It's easy to hide
when you have a shadow.
If you lack a shadow that lurks,
you hide at will,
never to see the light.

Rules are only made to be broken
if they are set upon you
by a hypocrite.

I'm a tad too late
for one thing,
and time goes by fast
when you're older,
wiser,
and while I don't have much time,
I'm not too late
for the other.

A cactus sits,
prickly,
in the tattooed
clay ***.

Your laughter scares me
because I worry
that I will never here that chorus
again.

Sure it does,
isn't that what a bill is made of?

Paint on your canvas,
use my skin
and decorate it with charcoal
and pastels.

Make me beautiful.

I will reincarnate
without dying,
I will cleanse my blood
of your poison,
I will birth
a clean,
wise soul
to replace the one
you tainted.

If you remove a silver sterling blade
from a sheath of thick leather,
you either make an oath
or make a killing.

If you really think about it
a masquerade ball
is simply people in posh fabrics
hiding behind a bedazzled mask
because they cannot face humanity.

I feel lovely,
featherlight,
no worries.

No, that's not
quite right.
That's not at all how
I feel.
I feel like I've hit
rock bottom,
my chest chained
to a wrecking ball.

i use chalk
on a blackboard
to bring my imagination
to life.

Merely time,
five times that dawn will show itself
before the eve of battle,
and we will succeed
in the completion of God's will.

You said you would never forget me,
but I'll never forget that lie.

Let oxygen flow,
in and out,
as you release tension,
hatred,
discomfort,
and replace it all
with love.

When I met you,
you had plunged your velvet fist
deep enough to reach my heart
that was frozen over, ever so cold.
You squeezed it tight and the sensation
oh you ripping it out
was painful at first,
but you proved to be
the one who could thaw my freezing heart
and bring me joy once again.

Silent sobs
Cries stuck in my throat
Heavy breathing, hyperventilating.
Even the sound of my tears
falling down my face
far too slowly.
I know not how to create music,
but I assure you,
I have an unbearable capacity
to create a cacophony of melancholy.

you're far too sweet;
it makes me sick.

Sometimes I'd like to float down a stream
and ignore what is causing me pain.