Nothing Is lonelier than a breeze of desolation in a crowd.

The wink of the moon is a forgiving description,
The locks of your hair, brittle and worn,
Every tomb you forebear has a decaying inscription,
Your empty touch can drive even the most stoic to mourn.

Unconsidered by nature, but naturally torn,
The weight you must bear is never applied,
Vengeful at your mention, and your destruction they've sworn,
With the strength of cyanide, but your effects shall never subside.

You keep your fair distance,
Through your eyes you see no favorite,
Sickness plagues all at your mere insistence,
You're a people watcher, a natural behaviorist.

I can't avoid or dismiss you my love,
But Death, my fair maiden, there's not an hour you go undreamed of.

Obsession

Love spins tangled webs
Truth sets free the unwilling
Trapping the blind ones


Psychosis

Voices unwelcome;
Torture rings through delusion-
Comfortably numb.


Helpless

The dark of sky falls
Stars struggle to shine through it
As hope does when lost


Envy

To find a sweet bird
To sing the sweetest soul song
But not to your soul

Depravity

A passion called forth
So clawed in and smothering
The light left her eyes


Apathy

Grim thoughts pull tightly
Red lines flow in a river  
The last cut, deepest.


Loss

Petals of thought fall
The wind scatters emotions
To the ends of earth

Each night is
precisely set
like a  gem
within  a dream.
Immersing in
the fluid grandeur
of darkness,
the night
swings  around it,
when one
looks back---
the day has
already become
a past dream
in an irretrievable realm.
The excesses
darkness commit
in a frenzy
in the night's geography.
excites me.without an end.
And what the moon
does to annul the
handiwork of darkness too
fascinate me.
Night is the story
of contrary crafts
calibrated to perfectly fit.