vera 21m
A single breath,
left alone
in a hollow chest.

Grey seeping into white
Color bleeding out like a pen.

Violating the marrow of my bones
The blue-black of my veins
Stark against my feathery skin.

The start of a party,
The union of so many memories,
Real and imagined.

Black blazers shrouding me,
A corpse,
With prayers and tears.

Convinced in the everlasting,
As much as I was for awakenings,
I close my eyes (and dream).
animalistic snarls of affection,
beaten black and blue with your care,
captured in a casket of adoration,
drowned by the depth your devotion,
every ounce of feeling evades being touched,
filth covers my entire being,
gathered around my ankles lain to rest,
here I make my permanent home,
isolated within the island I imagined,
joined only in the company of the devil,
kingdoms constructed in the safety of my mind,
locked to live only in the constraints you create,
maniac motivations for your emotions,
never clean I always display your artwork,
observed and analyzed by the fans you created,
place your purpose on my skin,
quietly carve out all devotion to sacrifice,
rot the lust you hold in the bed to nourish growth,
sin alongside the saviour so doubt can spread,
tempt those that claim to be sacred,
understand the grasp of the underworld,
vacancy lives within the glaze over your eyes,
weak souls wander in search of strength,
xenophobia surrounds your being,
you never trusted me to give me my life,
zip my bag close so I can have a final embrace.
My dream was that of rolling hills,
Which turned to waterfalls.
And once the river is quiet and still,
It then becomes a hall.

The hall has arches tall and wide,
And at the end, a King.
He reaches me with two great strides,
And beckons me to sing.

And then I saw the people there,
Who did not have a choice.
The musicians played with utmost care,
Yet, I couldn’t find my voice.

It was then I was imprisoned,
In a dungeon cold and dark.
And soon I was positioned,
So that the ax could hit its mark.

But then dungeon turned cathedral,
And I smiled at the priest,
When the tolling bells began to call,
The children to the feast.

Then I was alone again,
Amongst the rolling hills.
I heard the voices on the wind,
Which suddenly went still.

And then the hill was soaked in red,
The ax had found its sheath.
My soul and mind were filled with dread,
And I drifted off to sleep.
I remember that day so vividly
The day that I had to say goodbye

A phone call is what woke me up
I knew what it was about
Before I even answered
The tears already started to fall

Driving carefully to the hospital
My heart in pieces
I tried to compose myself
But everything felt uncontrollable

The first person I saw was my dad
I had never seen him cry before
His eyes all red and puffy
Still he led me to the door

Everyone in the room
Tears run down their cheeks
The only sounds I could hear
sniffles, whimpers, "Why did you have to leave me?"

Holding my grandma carefully
Her sobs and cries filling the room
She wouldn't let go
I don't think she'll ever let go

It was time for them to take him
Time for us to get up and go home
I couldn't bare to watch
My poor grandmother let her lover go

We left the hospital
And approached her house
The hardest part of all
She broke down before reaching the front door

We all sat huddled by the couch
Comforting my grandma
But all I could think about
Was how I just lost my grandpa

Days and weeks have gone by
We still visit him constantly
Decorating his grave ever so sweetly
Playing his music, knowing he's singing along

Certain songs remind me of him
Movies and food too
We talked about sharing music
While he shared old war stories

I always wonder if I'll see him again
Or if he's watching us from above
Probably playing tricks on us
Perhaps sending his love

I always think about him, never will I stop
My heart will always cry for him, I love my Papa
Cassie May
Oh so colorful
And gay

Influenced at birth
Of tainted blood
And death

Hits of the second hand
Bulbs burnt of anger
So fierce

Eyes of beauty
Visions violets  
Upon ruptured grounds

Disorders of impending doom
Shoveled beneath insomnia
And psychosis

Pits of stench
And over ripened silhouettes
Consume the nights

Day exists.
Only to succumb to the night.  

Lower pains
Life trembles
Beneath the surface

Like padlocks and hollow doors.

Life swollen inside
The size and stench
Of a decomposed head

First bled three hundred nights before

Cassie May
Oh so colorless
And dismay

Covered in red
Nobody knew
Till the night it falls

Silenced at birth
The angel of death for two
Gave life to you

Cassie May
So gorgeous and pained
Lives in death

So colorful and gay.
I will die,
and so will you.
So love me while
we have time.
So much love in you.

So much treasure locked away,
Unable to be shared.

Too much love in you.

Too many rivers to your spread delta,
Where you stand bravely to drown.

Immortal love in you.

The gift of a soul,
The truest something.

So much love that you'd give it to nothing.
The world is skin,
But you are within,
And passion is sin,
But who would've known?

Maybe past the aeons, we can try this again.
A bag of melancholy emotions collect
within empty features, secluded & vacant.
No tears ever weaken this collection
                            of barren reflections.
Only whispers escape, soundless gestures.

It collects from distressed abrasions,
                 to smear upon its outer visage.
Always motionless it wonders the
surroundings to celebrate the humour
                     of its desolate existence.

A child wonders closely, asking if
    this creation of lost collections is in
need of chloroform smiles.
                 it looks and hands a rose,
its leafs embers of its mourning.

Smiling, this miniature silhouette,
slashes out at the one who parented it.
              Cleaving what was smiles,
now carved features smear a face of
sullen smiles, as like the petals falling lifeless.

Tears flow like rivers, the contortion of
happiness fades when the last petal erodes
       a motion under hidden gestures facilitate  
this happiness to see such butchery of innocence.
But it is short lived like always, paper frowns collect.
Dara 9h
You have seen many moons,
and still the chariot sleeps,
and though many suns,
it’s sleep is ever sweet.

For it rises for the fading,
the weak and moribund of those,
yet being young at heart,
your soul is not yet old.

And even when it wakes,
to gather all its prey,
It passes swiftly by,
for it knows not your name.

(written quite a while ago)
Dara 9h
The truth is unfathomable,
to the wise man,
as colour can not be fathomed,
by the blind.
As his eyes are familiar with the darkness,
the thinker is still bound by time.

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