Beautiful moments.
Pesky butterflies.
Corny dialogues.
Happy ever after.
Partners made for one another.
Could people be more immature?
To believe that Prince Charming is waiting,
The glass slipper the entry to a new life.
How about a tragic love story?
where the prince was disowned by his father
The peasant a *****
The fairy godmother - a disturbing problem to humanity
And the ending is such a tragedy.

You are a madman.* And I am drunk on your attention. I slither and glide towards you. Crawling beneath your still form,. Desperate for the heat that your body openly offers.

     You are a gladiator. And I a spectator in your quest for entertainment. I move to the rhythm of the lasso. I flinch and cry out. Bits of flesh tear from my skin. Small rivers of blood converge and flow.

     You are the dictator. And I am your slave. I'm here to please you. Serve you with all I am. I give my body. Unhitch my soul.

          *I am yours but you'll never be mine.

Taking a wild guess, I opened the door.
We're staring at each other.
Frozen in time, in the moment.
We both take a step.
I farther from you.
You away from this.

A disastrous relationship,
     shaky,
          unstable.
We are unique,
     one-of-a-kind.
Could we last?
Would this be forever after?
Or is tomorrow our end?
We met in sticky situations of our own,
     we met half way there.
Is it the beginning of together
     and the end of each other,
Or the deaths of one another?

I am molded dirt and clumped rocks
Dust particles replenish me, swirling inside
Jaded men and sinful souls.
React at my every move.
Blades fly through me
I cannot feel.
Fear, anxiety and anticipation
   permeates the air.
Glowing orbs float somewhere
   in the distance.
I disperse and form again.
Slipping through dark
   alley and countless shadows.
I am one with the night
   I am ethereal.

Iridescent scales cover
   the bare back of thy love.
Trampled dreams lie between
   my lover's claws.
Long, black talons
   continue to search.
Crumpled bones make up
   my bed.
Fire glazes at my
   fingertips.
Licking it clean of my
   unearthly skin.
Blood-curdling screams
   would not be heard.
For I am at ease, one with
   this wretched happiness.
My sword is beside me, withdrawn
   broken and forgotten.

The breeze is calling.
Strong waves sing my name.
I hear it, the sound of a thousand voices.
Trying to lull me, trying to call.
The salty wind caresses my body.
Closer, closer I move toward the shoreline.
Tiny pebbles, young ***** skitter between my feet.
The coolness of the sea races through my veins.
I start melting.
Slowly, I turn into a puddle at my feet.
Where I once stood, there is only void.
***** eat me.
Sea gulls fly above me.
The waves rush to and fro.
The breeze continues to call.

I was drawn apart from the rest. Segregated and in isolation. I talk to myself. Tell myself all my dreams and aspirations. Relate my dreams and horrors within my confinement. The walls reverberate with my voice. The shadows scream in agony when I start telling tales to regale myself. The mice scurry past my ankles. I don't care at all. Voices travel within my cell, bringing with it stories from the outside; where the sun touches a person's skin and where the wind is considered a friend.

A grassy plain,
dotted with beautiful flowers.
Look closely, look closely.
There you'll see
a decaying flower.
The decay did not wait
for the flower to bloom.
It did not wait
for the perfect time.
It set its jaws.
And captured the budding flower.
The flower, not entirely helpless,
gave up hope on itself.
It gave up all that it had.
It succumbed to the darkness
that wanted to devour it whole.
Now you'll see, a decaying flower maybe.
Woe to the the unshed beauty,
the full capabilities of the little flower.
It is now no more, no more.

A chrysalis hangs precariously on this ledge between us. Spun with our delicate emotions, hardened by our greatest horrors. Slowly unwinding from its tight form. The loose end. Tugged by the people surrounding us, bitten and chewed upon by the situation we are in. This feeling; inexplicable, disastrous. We are shadowed by our ignorance and indifference.

     The life within that chrysalis, an innocent in a world full of blood and gore. Still developing, sensing the poisonous intentions of its fellow species. Hesitating, delaying its arrival. A victim in a vicious world.

     Its outermost covering gone now. Protective layer or not. It fights. It hangs on the last thread of hope; hope that would soon prove futile.

Black Butterflies are everywhere.
Flying up, down, on my head, on my heart,
      in my hands. Everywhere.
An opened cage, dangling from somewhere
      within me has broken.
Black gildings and metal works are
       slowly crumbling.
The butterflies are leaving.
One by one.
Then two by two.
Then by groups. Multitudes.
They're leaving.
They're leaving.
Leaving me.

I am perplexed  
by everything that is happening.
I am afraid
of what tomorrow brings.
They say that
tomorrow’s promises are sweet.
But I am sure to be lost
without You to guide me.
I am in quandary
over things I have no control with.
I am in jeopardy
in deciding what to do.
Should I continue?
Or forge a new path?

I am a flea gorged on your blood.
       A pest you could never get rid of.
I am a constant itch on your body,
       one that never goes away.
I am a craving that could
       never be satisfied.
I want to be
       the salutation in your love letter.
I need to be a problem
       you can’t solve.
I desire for you to see me.
      With holes in my body and cracks in my interior.
I hope you’ll reach for me
       with your fingers spread.
I fancy your lips on my forehead
       tonight.

You act as an elixir.* A single drop of you makes my skin crawl over my wrought out muscles. Spasms consume my body. My synapse go firing in every direction. I feel emboldened, I feel strength interlacing with my being. I am steel.

     You are my caffeine to which I am soulfully addicted to. A single sip of you keeps me aware through the bowels of the night. I stare at the moonlight shining through the window. I look up at the stars and wonder how I could reach them. I am invincible.

     You are a person whom I'll never reach. Someone who is "sophisticated" as ****. A man-child who does his own bidding. A spark of electricity in the realm of force fields. A creative blot of ink in a letter of sorts.

     You are everything I want but would never have.

This maelstrom is ******* me in. No chance of rescue. No second life. I am torn between wanting to fight and needing to let go. I can feel your phantom fingers hefting me upward, toward the blinding light. Then, I am yanked down to the sweet abyss of unfeeling. Both promise of everlasting silence; one that can never be broken by humans. I am cleaved in two; these forces wage war over my limp body.

     It's nice to know that something would fight for you even though humanity has given up hope. I should let go, be one with the supernatural.  But which should I choose? I really need to let - NO! I don't want to be fought over by forces I can't even begin to imagine. I still want solid hands to touch me. I want the natural warmth that a body emits. I want to feel sturdy bones beneath my fingers and physical contact with the owners of these phantom fingers.
    
     I won't let anyone decide for me. I won't die without a fight. I'll claw and scrape at everything for my survival. I'll even clip you in the head should you have ill intentions. No, I will fight till my end. And maybe, just maybe, I'll die with a smirk on my face and with fingertips hiding scraped flesh and blood beneath.

The tendrils of pleasure
     wrap around my soul.
The shadow of your touch
     lingers in my memories.
Acts of old.
Times of new.
All that has been,
     would never cease to be.