Oblivion awaits
Sadness obligates
"O, ****** soul, be vanquished!"
The Lacrimosa dictates.

No bouquet ever darker,
No flower ever, grieving;
"Not beauty" it begs to differ;
The Lacrimosa wanes.

He stands in the fields
He plucks the dying,
The clouds darken
His already pitch-black eyes.

"Lacrimosa," he asks:
"Why so weak?"
"I am but saddened," says he.
To see Lacrimosa, bowing on nothing.

"Leave me be!" Lacrimosa exclaims.
As she lies on the meadows.
"What fate dictates, what fate begets."
As the hopeless Lacrimosa whimpers softly.

"Then, to leave, I shall."
"Then, to sleep, you will."
"O Lacrimosa, I am saddened,"
To see Lacrimosa gone.

Forsaking forgets
Regretting begets
"Not beauty, but harsh truth."
Lacrimosa says her last words.

Lacrimosa have mercy on me,
a kiss on my cheek is my only desire,
oh conspirator cease torturing me.
inside my heart you're stirring a fire.

Lacrimosa bring with you winter rains.
I surrender my silvery heart to your claim,
will you heed my whispers, oh merciless dame?
and with forceful hand erase her name.

Lacrimosa you've made me weak yet strong,
I am but salt in your ocean of fear.
I beg you to mercy this servant for his wrong,
and from my eyes you'll drop a single tear.

don't listen to mozart;
lacrimosa
lack any dosage:
lacrimosa
tea; no coaster:
lacrimosa
broken toaster:
lacrimosa

The clouds are weeping for you,
Awaiting for the time to surface.

Can't you hear the raging storm outside?
Can't you hear them calling for you?

No matter what I say,
No matter what I do,
There's no way for me to save you.

No saintly tears for this belted
asteroid 208 .
A rock headed into
insignificance , as it twirls
around some son/sun of long
forgotten already tomorrows .
Life's long road ,
crushed rock , hopes , and dreams ,
are tarred into
submission ;
driven madly over in derision .
Yet you dare crave more
than time , and space , and memories .
When we know that tears from heaven
saintly flow forever .
And will wash all traces away .
Like the riders of the storm
that deluge the three rivers charged
with pain , forgotten love , and time's
indifference .
Hush now , the last flickers of light dim ,
thy song was beauteous , but there are never encores granted
by the Angel that never cries .

I went there without you
and I had a visit with my grandpa.
April may be the cruelest month
but October kept him alive for a moment
longer.
We listened to Mozart and
visited and visited some more
until our throats yearned
for water and for rest.
With another kiss on the forehead
he left me for Good.

I sat with Jesus again -
this time in an Astrovan,
remnants of the serpent still
stuck to His heel.
I asked Him to play
Lacrimosa for my grandfather
at the gates of Heaven,
to which He gave me a hug
and we drove back toward
the rising sun.

Your new side was fake
And covered in all the rust you need
To start a war.

There were springs sticking out
From holes in the mattress
The night you told me
I was void of form.

It must haunt you now
To think that I'm such a good abstraction.

Lacrimosa,
Lacrimosa...

My dear,
I'd prefer to sing alone.

To think of you washed
In all the colors falling
Like Whistler's Rocket
So far below the moon...

I cry away any sanctity
Placed upon me in my youth.

When I am stricken
With all the words
Uttered over the silence
Of our modern, beautiful
Communication...

I will fall silent.

I will fall still.

I will be quiet,
But I will be swift,
And I will be void of mercy
To all but myself.

this one is for you
little soul.
this one is for you
broken heart.
this one's for the person
who cries late at night.

you're not
alone.
and it's not over
yet.

stay strong.
go on.

the blade is not
the answer.

stay strong.
move on.

tomorrow
will be
better.

Night. All over his body.
Lithium lingers on the tongue.

Slow motion crawl into bed,
nothing for dinner except sleep.

His gaze. Colder than
the chill of a refrigerator.

He tells me he’d rather die
than **** me tonight.

Grabbing the fat that clings
under my chin, he tells me,

“Once I learn to love myself,
I promise I’ll love you next.”

The steady pulse
of my beating heart

Swings in time with the soothing cello
And strings of earth and air

I see my body, I am outside
I am no longer within

My thoughts are just bubbles
floating in the air

My feet are just stable
but not part of the earth

This is my death
The passing away of my soul

Deepening the plunge,
as I immerse myself within the sorrow

Give away my soul, you say
Stay, you say
Do, you say
Don't, you scream
muffled.

I cry out in those leaping intervals
The painful pulls of your desires
ripping at my already weakened heart.

My strength deteriorates as the dominant over turns
I, lying on the ground, cold to you.

Amen, they say.
To men. The end.

Your voice
Broken and weeping
Reminds me more of
false ******,
Than compassion

It cries,
“I am filled,
I am overflowing,
Be like me, be like me,”

But it echoes,
“Fill me, fill me,
With anything,
with everything”

- S.G.

Tonight I have no words.
I cannot grandly sweep my pen
In flowing arcs across the page,
Drawing little soft impressions
(little soft depressions)
That show how lovely pain can be.
I cannot play the great Creator
Who rips a vital pulsing mass
from out His chest,
And molds still-beating clay
With a sad old potter’s gentle hands
into a little melancholic harpist
who plucks the heartstrings perfectly.

No, I have no words that fit
Like others have made fit before,
composing language to fit all the inward lines and curves
(I once knew a few of her’s)
that twist and turn and come entwined,
(the twists and turns of long ago)
crying “Lacrimosa!” in some wee hour
as the breeze blows a lacy curtain back.
I am no Aeolian instrument
Sounding a sweet ethereal chord into the night.
I am the vacuous breath left behind in silence
When the musician’s music stops —
A tuneless referent —
An empty exclamation mark
Howling noiselessly in space,
Meaning nothing
And everything, all the same.

!