My frame is decaying, even faster when I stand.
A house, and I’m haunted, on hope’s burial land.
My windows, hollowed eyes that do nothing but stare,
At a world that shunned one with a life meant to bare.

These floorboards that shriek, are like my mournful cries,
As serpent-like phantoms shed skin and pass by.
Warm words that were etched in the walls are now cold,
Just echoes of a story that will never be told.

The clocks restless ticking, its echoes, they scream.
If only to remind me that I’ve shattered, like dreams.
My will to live was buried long ago under a promise.
These cobwebs were spun, only to trap any solace.

-“Oh, cursed soul,” a ghost haunts as I weep,
“Do you feel my icy grip as you’re failing to sleep?

I’ve watched as you wander these fated terrains.
I have hollowed your heart; I will empty your veins.”

- “Forget now, the warmth that ignited your soul.
What you thought you could hold; I have made to turn cold.”

- These words no one hears, they disturb my fraught mind.
As my black stricken eyes pierce the void till I’m blind.

- “Awaken, child unwanted!” he pleads through the dust.
“Once I’m fed from your essence, you will finally rust.”

- Those words make a promise, my hopeless future forms.
Reassurance that the curse set for me has been born.

There’s a cold empty room, where my hopes should reside.
Shattered mirrors hold proof, that my dreams have since died.
A vibrant tapestry now sways, ripped in the wind,
Whispering of lost motives to a life that wants to end.

The doors are creaking open, letting in all I fear.
My tormented nightmares are all that is clear.
In every shadowed corner my demons reside.
If only to remind me, I’m imprisoned here inside.

I want to hold the sun, as a flame.
As a shroud that no longer needs his name.
Devalues his origin, and the costs incurred.
I'll dissolve in the furnace, my body deferred.

It is not the burning that I truly seek,
But a quiet surrender, at a radiant peak.
The kind that evaporates matter aligned,
In myths of forever, leaving time behind.

I want to watch as light rays become dust.
As suns burn hollow, saturate and then rust.
Not where I'm dying, but morphing sublime.
A process dissolving emotions and mind.

To hold the sun is to grasp at gold.
Abandon the flesh, that's grown tired and cold.
To slip through the cracks where mortality turns.
And breathe in the silence as lungs start to burn.

For there is a place where the ashes belong.
Where shadows are living and scream with a song.
Where the afterlife is not just a realm I'll behold,
But a quiet ascension to a gnosis untold.

With stars I share a secret. "The Divine are forgiving".
Their quantum doorways are their gift to the living.
I want to walk through, with that luminous flow.
My transmogrification into the unknown.

To hold the sun is to become its light,
To no longer struggle in the dark cosmic fight.
To emerge as the stardust that I know is pure.
Lay the illness of a life in defeat by Deaths Cure.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

To be as The Moth, born to the dark.
A fleeting fragment, a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be its own shadow. To not have a name.

Guided by stars too distant to hold.
To exist as a soul, that exists all alone.
To run into hiding by dawn’s first light.
To be haunted by, and to haunt all in sight.

Each light forms a lust that burns like a vow.
A promise of warmth that its fate won’t allow.
With wings, so fragile, that are pinned to this fate,
Its destiny cursed like sins born into saints.

Not resting at night, nor waking in peace.
For the pulse of the glow, we know, doesn’t cease.
To be called to the light as it paints life black.
To be deemed punishable before any ill act.

Yet The Moth questions nothing, asks nothing in return.
Never questions its darkness, or why the light burns.
A creature that lives in desperation of the night.
A creature that dies by desperation for the light.

Its symbolism, carved in my endless pursuit.
My shape stitched into the seams of The Moth's truth.
A life chasing embers no matter fate’s cost.
To be as The Moth, to find only what's lost.

Just like The Moth, I was born to the dark.
A fragmented soul with a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be my own shadow. To forget my own name.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦

I am not whole. I am fragments, arrayed.
I fade into gray. The dusk steals day.
A shadow in time, I drift out of scope.
I'm lost in some void I've created to cope.

Am I real in the moments when I am not seen?
I'm dead in my light, two souls caught between.
My thoughts twist and turn like an entangled thread.
I'm alive and I'm dead, both only in my head.

My truth has been lost, Identity unclear.
A haunted soul screaming that only I hear.
My sight is obscured. A curse left me torn.  
I'm the dead that I mourn. I'm the living unborn.

Through time’s endless loop, I twist, and I bend.
In stories untold, cause they’re never going to end.
My mind shifts dimensions, untethered and free.
Yet bound by the question, “What’s really left of me?”

My past echoes a dead voice that remains.
An unobserved self, that's still screaming in pain.
There's a rip in our fabric, a crack in our sky.
His dreams are now shrouded, the nightmares are mine.

I’m a riddle I've created, that I can't even solve.
I fall like the snow, I silently dissolve.
I grasp at the stars, but I'm burned by their light.
My Passions, like flames, smothered from sight.

Not of the flesh, the blood, or the bone,
A desolate recluse, that never feels alone.
I speed through the night just to die every day.
I'm valued for words, till there's nothing to say.

I'm the outlet for a lonesome omni-God.
Caught between the real, the imagined, and the fraud.
I vanish so quick, like the smoke from my lungs.
The thoughts I can't translate, I'm thinking in tongues.

I ask who I am but never give Myself answers.
My condition never ends. I'd rather it be cancer.
I'm nothing but a ripple of thought in my dreams.
Then the moment I'm seen, I lose everything.

Through layers of time that I cannot perceive.
Bound by the question, “What’s really left of me?”
A shadow in time, I'm drifting out of scope.
Tangled in entangled strings, lest I hang from a rope.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦