He laid in the sun
    like he ruled the earth,
    he held onto the
wine bottle
     with a hand heavily scared
      with the marks
of suffering.

    He toasted the
sea and the surf,
    cursed the
gulls and the gnats.

     Then brought the bottle
to his dried and
cracked
lips and drank
as if the
    last grape
     of the world had
let its blood
     into his bottle.

     He laughed at
a memory
     then yelled at
the sun and
       everyone around
him was a peasant.

    His lips bled red
as he gulped mouth
fulls of wine.
The memory of
her along this very beach
caused his inner
rage to drum forth.

     He gripped handfuls
of sand as he silently
Dammed the serpents
all to Hell.

  He mumbled drunken
thanks to
    Minerva, Osiris, Hera
     and Anu.

      The shadowed world
looked down upon him
     and the feral cats adored him.
     He lived like true royalty,
drunk and alone.

Care free and forgotten
he had become once
he had awoke to it all.
Ridiculed and labeled CRAZY
for his ability to see
it all for what it really
was,for what it really
still is.

She left this page
on a Saturday as he
slept on a chair
beside her hospital bed.
He buried her
on a Tuesday,
then set about to
drinking.

He broke free
of it all,
detached himself
from this farce
and
set about to wonder.
Now free of the
pollution they call society,
he waited only
on the next life,
on that next page.

Where she had promised him
they'd meet again...

O'er the midnight moorlands crying,
Thro' the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair;
In the barren branches creaking,
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking,
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking,
****'d demons of despair.

Once, I think I half remember,
Ere the grey skies of November
Quench'd my youth's aspiring ember,
Liv'd there such a thing as bliss;
Skies that now are dark were beaming,
Bold and azure, splendid seeming
Till I learn'd it all was dreaming —
Deadly drowsiness of Dis.

But the stream of Time, swift flowing,
Brings the torment of half-knowing —
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea;
And the voyager, repining,
Sees the wicked death-fires shining,
Hears the wicked petrel's whining
As he helpless drifts to sea.

Evil wings in ether beating;
Vultures at the spirit eating;
Things unseen forever fleeting
Black against the leering sky.
Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,
Clawing fiends of future sadness,
Mingle in a cloud of madness
Ever on the soul to lie.

Thus the living, lone and sobbing,
In the throes of anguish throbbing,
With the loathsome Furies robbing
Night and noon of peace and rest.
But beyond the groans and grating
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting
Sweet Oblivion, culminating
All the years of fruitless quest.

There are meteors in your throat
While you cry moon beams
Stars falling from your mouth like and avalanche
The stardust in your soul is unrelenting
And your heart is like a super nova
As the galaxies in your bones expand
And the pain becomes clear
Your creation is like black hole
While the muses play god with your mind

Witness the spectacle in the blue spectacles.
The woman who wanders over the bridge, with her heart held tight in her outstretched hands.
She's keeping it safe, protection guaranteed,  keeping her own counsel.
Her hands are cold, she must keep her heart warm.
She needs to be reborn.
Every one laughs at her, an echo in unison.
She is precious, so precious.
Those glasses are breaking, so she cannot see.
In front of her nose, not the wood for the trees.
You know it's reported that, "men don't make passes at girls that wear glasses".
She needs to ***** in the dark, for she can barely see.
Blinded by fear, the only prince she thought she found before, was but, the prince of darkness.
(C) Livvi

[pills rattling]
[water running]
[muffled voices on television]
[exhales slowly]
[ominous music]
[breathing unsteadily]
[melancholy orchestral music]
[door opens]
[gunshot echoes]
[demonic orchestral music]