A storm is boiling above my head, a
raging, red storm which has bubbled and brewed
in the skies around the place where I have
been ****** to for centuries. Electricity
surrounds my limbs and keeps me in the spot
where my hands have been nailed, standing barefoot
in an electric ocean which buzzes
and burns the skin off my feet. Like molten
wax, the sky drips down my arms over and
over until the flesh fades away and
all that is left is the sound of my screams,
tortured and angry, tearing apart all
physical matter around me. Metal
rain and anguish hit my body as power
surges through the coarse ground and I am left
as a sacrifice, with torn skin and lost
hope, underneath an eternal storm of thunder.

When I put my eye to the telescope
to explore the dark depths of the universe,
I see a man standing on Mars. He has
a sword in his hands and blood pouring down
his face. He is too far away to hear
but I know he is screaming. His war cry
writes itself across his face and those wild
eyes haunt me when mine are closed. They are white
with rage and filled with the brutal, violent
love of war. He has a beauty which is
old with skin that has turned into rubble,
skin the colour of rust. Blood is embedded
in his surface and creates cracks, edges,
borders to old rivers long since evaporated.
His body is laced with the order of
a soldier and War traces the smooth skin
around his lips. I peer at him through the
darkness as he sleeps and the violence seeps
into his dreams, singing its lullabies
of explosions and ******. He weeps his
masculinity into the earth and
slowly is pulled into the endless dust
which stretches its way across his planet.

There's a molten ground of explosions and fire
beneath my feet, somewhere
wretched souls go to manifest their hatred.
A light in the distance is slipping
from my fingertips
and I can't reach it,
it's flying beyond my grasp
and I am going to be left alone again.
I can't find the strength within myself
to hold onto it and slowly, oh
so slowly, everything
is becoming dark and dreary.
I am afraid
because there is a corner of my heart
which still feels
and it has been washed a cold,
fractured blue
whose song is that of broken
mirrors and bleeding hands.
Why can't I love?
Why is there a battle of lost,
defeated lovers within me
which never stops raging, a battle
of fear and pain and loneliness?
Why can I shine so brightly
to the newcomers yet become dull
and lifeless to those I have seen
every side of so easily?
Why is there no guilt within my soul
yet the dark truth of death
knits itself through my brow
and seeps into my lifeless eyes
with such haunting truth?

Little Wendy *******, coming up to play.
Walking up the hills, broken,
begging me to stay.
Little Wendy *******, needles to the skin.
Seeping, drip, seduction,
eyes that pull you in.
Little Wendy's soaking, she's drowning in herself.
Sinking, sinking deeper,
addiction beyond help.
Little Wendy's cloaking, she's hiding behind blood.
Dyeing her skin bright red,
swimming, falling up.
Little Wendy's dying, she's tripping in her mind.  
Shooting, lusting, crying,
nectar sweet and kind.
Little Wendy *******, pulse is always on.
She keeps on playing these games
until she's dead and gone.

Vanity shows itself in the smallest
fragments of her body, so subtle it
is almost invisible. Throw away
the measurements, the calculations,
and suddenly you will see ***, victory,
prosperity embodied in the sea foam
of her eyes. Your mind will circle
with body and beauty until you will
be found. She will expose you
for who you really are, someone who sees
all of the magnificent beauty of the sun
in their own reflection. She'll never learn,
she'll never learn. So we must shame her.
Push her away in fiery envy and
destroy her victory so the damage
is done and she cannot be healed.
Persuasion and shame
lick her lips with a cunning tongue, ready
to say whatever must be said in order
to convince me to love her
once more.
I will not heal her.
I will not heal her.

There was a gloom in his eyes. A dark, washed
out gloom where all colour faded to grey
and demons spun their webs to lay in.
An absent, forgotten realm of colour
crumbles away in his hands and becomes dust
slipping from his grasp as the cold, thieving
wind snatches it from his palms. Even ice
can't withstand the harsh, bruised winters
in his heart. It shatters with deep, gutteral
screams as the cracks reach to the core
of his world, a world of black and white
disintegrating with every rattled breath
he somehow manages to draw between
the dried, broken skin of his lips.
Life is not life, where each day is walking
into an ocean of dust
hoping to finally drown.

She has darkness surrounding her body.
Limbs of smoke,
Eyes of dust,
Beauty with blackest intention.
Blood coats her lips
And falls from her grace
With decadent
Delight.
When the light leaves your eyes,
You will hear her treacle voice
Drip and seethe
Within your mind
Until you find your nails
Tearing against your skin,
Stretching and stretching
Until the rending scream of metal
Shakes your bones
And draws mercury blood
Boiling in your veins.
She will take all you have
And leave you brewing in fear
Until the shadows come
To take your soul.
With no precious metals left,
You will dull
And lose your reflective surface,
Becoming a dark and cunning monster
Of greed
Just
Like
Her.