as the blacklight morning
eats away at god's empty heaven
angel's cry tears of blood and
shed their hair -
gold as the sun at the midday hour

diamonds cut out the throats of
lovers

they bleed

the crimson rage oozes,
and drips in thick, blobs of terror

heaven waits for hell to freeze over and
the devil welcomes me home

and all was the same as if
the world had held its breath for me

my spine is made from the bones of you
staunch and unmoving

stuck in a stupor that caves out and eats in
cutting through the insecurity

so deep i can't lick the wounds clean

i am the living dead scoured by maggots and attended by
my own sorry spirit
looming over the death like
a funeral turned pity party

****** ******, ****** ******
the words shout from heaven and hell

but i am dead
and you dissolve

into paradise

sky of oblivion darkness holds the image of you plainly
black on black but still sheerly visible
amidst the murderousness of this
everlasting night

your eyes are storms and your teeth are the
dark stars in the sky

little knives that i wish
could **** me

hair that falls effortlessly, gracing the perfection of your countenance -
a devil in your own right
you are my mistake

nocturne haze keeps me living
but your radioactive gaze
has left me in bones

a hollow man walking
into the blacknight horizon

where he would sprout wings of ash
and fly to you

wisps and willows paint the sky with your blood
apparitions dancing in the dusk of trees that
can't bear your sight

branches swinging to **** with purpose -
to end the unholiness of you

smoke breathes and hugs the world
the devil won't **** you, and
the umbrage of my small love
can't even admit to the fact

carved into my soul with
the permanence of
a tragedy

i will not have this life but there is no
killing you

even on the brightest of days
there was darkness within my soul

the burning cold scythe whispers for
a paradise tomorrow and release from the
butterfly pain

everything cuts and the reaper has feeling
a once clinical mercenary tinged by the darkness that followed me
into hell and out
back and up
out and nowhere

death's regrets paints mercy on a face that wants none

so i tell him:

swing in the darkness
cut the air of oblivion

you'll find it hurts just as much
as the first time

Rain falls like a lead sheet beating
ages on my back. The water rises,
but through the muddiness of the dividing sea  
your light stands clear. You stand 
beyond my riverside,
the birth of Venus before my eyes.

Skin like seafoam and eyes
like amber coax my hands into fists, beating
ripples into your image that not even the riverside
rain and my own reflection could rise
over. As the waves ripple across your cheeks, I stand
to remember you are also across this sea.

Caught between this love like religion, the sea
breeze makes poetry of your hair in the wind, and my eyes
have never been drowned deeper. I have never had to stand
a love so murderous; even your mirror image gives my soul a beating.
All the while, the water rises,
crashing against the riverside.

Across the riverside,
your gaze is resolute and colder than the sea.
The sun rises,
to find her light breaking the horizon with her eyes
that held back whirlpools, beating
my soul with crashing waves of division, which I can no longer stand.

Too deep to stand,
dangers of the divide bound my desire. A prisoner to the riverside.
The chains of star-crossed lovers crash with the waves, beating
my sense into sea.
Pain is no stranger to your eyes.
The beauty of the sea would always rise.

Hurricanes beat you into perfection and you rise
and stand
above the ordinary eyes.
Storm-beaten and Tempest-tossed on this riverside,
A godly daughter of the ominous sea
has overcame a beating.

Beyond the riverside,
across the sea,
my heart is beating.

THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs
On the night sky hair of the women,
And the long light-fingered men
Spoke to the dark-haired women,
"Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier."
How could he sit there among us all
Guzzling blood into his guts,
Goblets, mugs, buckets-
Leaning, toppling, laughing
With a slobber on his mouth,
A smear of red on his strong raw lips,
How could he sit there
And only two or three of us see him?
  There was nothing to it.
He wasn't there at all, of course.
  
  The roses leaned from the pots.
The sprays snot roses gold and red
And the roses slanted crimson sobs
  In the night sky hair
And the voices chattered on the way
To the frappe, speaking of pictures,
Speaking of a strip of black velvet
Crossing a girlish woman's throat,
Speaking of the mystic music flash
Of pots and sprays of roses,
"Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier."