40 years we have lived in the light and baunty so bright,
then comes 40 Years of darkest night.
Our town sleeps one last time in our lovely homes before we set off for the land of safety and light.
The twilight is here to the town's dismay,
the horrors come forth from the darkest pine-forest beyond our friendly place.
The town here's the evil waking in the dark place beyond and sounds the horns to board the ships that will carry them to safety from this soon-to-be horrid place.
We left a lovely town in the shadows of death,
we will return in 40 years to reclaim what we have left.
Good luck to those who stay behind for we are the lucky ones that flea from the coming endless night.
Those who stay will face their ugly nightmares,
but fear not for we will be back to bury your bones beneath our lovely Town in 40 years.
Whether you're brave or stupid we shall not know.
Death awaits you beneath the snow.
Good luck you poor soul.

So **** Endless
The blue sky
about to swallow me whole
Are those really atoms?
A patchwork quilt
So intricate
Not even
Rather
So intermixed interwoven
Just a mess
Just a mass
Including me
Swallowing me
Whole

"Vanish with me,in the glass of Misery
Come along, fill my heart with love, and see
See the things, that love can bring for us, easily"
Isn't that what you once whispered to me?

A night was gone, and the love was grown
In me, I sense somthing That shouldn't be
What I've done, must be burried under my skin
The guilt I carry, is so **** heavy, no it won't be there again.

I ran to see the Saint,to erase the sin I made
I cried and cried, after the birth of my hate
I'm now the person I thought I'll never create
Coming across a man, changes the written fate
And the star in the sky, thinks it's quiet late

How can you know, the one behind the viel
If you, in the loving eyes of the lover,sail?
The truth was always there,But love blocks the mail
So, the sea of beauty makes you always fail
And turns that life, into something frail

The kiss upon you, will always remind you
That the one who knows you best, did it too
the cries of you, won't wipe away the love we knew
Depression,I see it drawn on you, take of that portrait of blue
Tear that page we drew, say goodbye to the woman you desire
A bird could't live a bear, so away it flew

Within every heart, there is a chain hooked up to a wall of flesh, blood and stone.

Scars open and cut too deeply, we rather thirst and drink our own blood then eat the molded food that the guards of fire and destruction serve us.

We try so hard to escape this hell inside our minds. But it almost seems impossible and mindless.

Every day, we live in a living nightmare. We would rather die than live another second in this kingdom of depression and wrath.

There is only one law, and the law is the image of death is nothing but a dream.  

We can try our hardest to desire the blood spill and the gushing out of beaten bones and origins to spill out of our weak and limp bodies, but all we'll do is spawn back into this waste land

Tears stream down the faces of many innocent broken people; they feast on each other like beast of a large skeleton bump sight,

We're tortured until our back bone is visible, and our voices are empty and numb.

Our fingers lay in pieces of flesh on the cold mossy stone floor from making meals for these zombies like monsters.

The meals are the hearts and frightened minds of our fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters; we weep for them and wish for no comfort.

**I am the only prisoner in this Endless Fire Hell that has a window in their dang room. I can see a brighter, safer, more loving place just millions of miles away.

I often reach my hand out the window, to at least feel tiny drops of refreshing rain on my black burning skin.

I cry aloud, calling for some kind of help, but I know that calling and crying won't get me anywhere.

The rain drops are the only loving thing I have, for they heal my scar and fix my wounds, the only hopeful thing that my blurry eyes and beaten hands have ever seen and felt.

Under neither this dungeon in the sky, is a vast and cool ocean that I long to swim in the feeling of freedom and satisfaction.

Within every moment as I swim in the burning and melting lava pool, oh how the lava is stained by the blood and eyes of prisoners that have slowly melted away.

Their skin slowly ripping off their skull as they scream in a high and painful voice… Oh how I long to feel the rain. Oh how I long for it.

On one faithful day, there was a great down pour, and the rain drops starts to sing in harmony with serenity and joy, which caused the stones of bitterness that surround my window to give way and crumble and fall into the sea.

I smiled bright for the first time in 16 years. I took the chance and jumped, but then quickly grabbed hold of a left over stone, my arm stretched in pain.

How silly of me to just jump and not knowing if I’ll die and spawn back here or if the guards will see me in the ocean and band the rain from this Nether.

My Arm soon gave up its last strength as my ****** hand finally let the stone go. I could feel the rain, filling and soaking my entire body,

I crashed into the ocean, my eyes closed, and my mouth allowing the water of purity to drown me, my arms and leg motionless as I began to sink.

I would rather die in something I love, than live in something I hate...

It started very long ago
The bruises started small
Evolved into scarred wrists
My mother keeps crying sadly
I’ve disappointed her
She used to brag about my sculpted body
Now she glares at my scarred abs
Summer used to be my favorite
Now winter is the best
It started voluntarily
Now I can’t quit.

fragile as an egg
I crack my skull over the page
and astral project my discontent
in order to witness my disconnect

the black oozes out
and takes its sweet time
to reach for the sheets
of paper to rhyme
my disillusionment
with suffering not mine
it speaks to me
all of the time

grasping the page
black eases in
to fill the void again
in vain attempt to connect
the patterns perceived
by my hand-selected memories

filed all orderly
they spill out in a heap
and soak in paper-deep
it's not enough
and it will never be enough
but blood must be spilled
in order to keep
my gods alive

they wane with the tides
sanguine and weak
I give all I have
but it rarely seems
to have an effect other than
a brief reprieve
for myself
it doesn't help
or decrease
their suffering...

so I weave words together
to spellbind the weather
from washing away
all I've worked to achieve
and perceive with augury
and sorcery and poetry
all scratched in the earth
so the world might hear me

vocalizations and invocations
fail to sway the rocks--
stone-faced, anthropomorphic rocks
--that just stare at me
secretly laughing
they're happy
their suffering

my gods are dying!
and I'm trying
to find a cure
but it isn't working
and more and more
I'm sure that

a congregation of one is not enough