The failure in us both runs free;
Bleeding out from wounds of love,
Snagged on broken bones of trust.
The futile attempts in all of us.

you say that you,
when something happens,
choose fight over flight.
yet. whenever I'm in trouble
or sad
or panicking
or numb
or angry
or bloodied
or bruised
you run, you freak out, you leave, you
vanish.
you fly away, raven.
so perching myself on this boney finger
of Death's
I, the crow, will caw
until you return
"to protect."

In solitary spaces
I find parts noise hid
screaming simulacrum
in broken cobwebs

a life pending
in crevices
sensing
chill

broken
concepts
mantles for
ruptured elements
their soft core exposed

casualties of bloodied past
salvaged fragments
society's furnace
discarded

singing
synths
waiting

Red lips
White paint
hides death
her grace a butterflies wing
life caught in her cold stare of her sting.
All dressed in colours which catch the moons glare
she kisses you like death kisses away the life that fades from sleep
an angel with a bushido blade
cuts away the bamboo which grows with haste
the light fades into a full moon
A butterfly hiding in a tomb
with carnivorous teeth
hiding a song of red bloodied despair
her cold touch ice on skin
catches your heart within sin
The black tea ceremony
of vampiric death or matrimony
if she chooses you for her thrall.