Winter lace
adorns the windowpanes
Crisp white snow
crunches underfoot
a trail of crimson drops
lead to the winter woods

There’s something so sinister about being lost inside of yourself;-
I apply Lip Ice before I fall asleep, just in case I have to experience
That cold kiss with Death. But that’s one being, being less than
generous to oneself, and giving out a lot of degenerate excuses
Of not doing so well. Rambling picaresque; engulfed by a hardened
sense; feeding well into my own insecurities, made from haphazard
ingredients- as a soul that tastes like concluded gumbo

Still, I ate a full plate; possessing a ruthless taste; an illegitimate
descendant of experience- that ******* is tapping, watered down
By the chit and chatter of rain; a totem of pain, spoken in haste,
As my lips are a cigarette ember, kissing while heat reveals itself,
As a tiny echoed spark, in a pool full of fresh gasoline

I only hear the sound of peace, in a snoring dream, ha, I hardly
do try to breathe out of my nose. From not being altogether; are we
Really all together- who really knows? But only the dead, who truly
Get to see the entire world, as souls that rise, or of course those who fall
As its truly so sinister living as beings, in this world’s being.

Desire.
Killing softer souls
Then meets the eye.

Screaming,
Drowning.
Running,
Empowering,

I am all but there.

My mind flares
With ideas
That the heavens wouldn't dare
To declare.

For life, I do not bear.

Numb to a feeling,
Born too daring.
Unwilling to sober,
Utterly uncaring.

That is I,
And I shall be until the end of time.
Where I sit against a wall,
Dimmer than my mind.

Once upon a scary night, within the dark streets of London,
Five women all met their demise by a shadowy demon.

One hundred and thirty three years and eleven months later,
No one to this very day knows the name of the vile killer.

So he'll continue to go by the name of Jack the Ripper,
Till someone brings to light the identity of the monster.

One step - two stepping me,
Swirling around me in a spiral,
And I twirl,
And orbit in a cycle,
Gaining momentum,
I shine bright
As I try to catch up to your speed
And you run me down!
When did you become so sinister?

Never fixed in a fixture,
So I never got the whole picture,
Because you're constantly on the move.
So move!

Don't hold your breath
In fear that you'll never breathe again
When the difference between
Reality and a projection
Is the ink in the pen and
The lines in a book
And even then,
You cannot catch up to the speed of His
Handwriting.

Finished before you even started,
Cycle after cycle
I am reminded.

Sadistic, sinister:

              The evil twin sister

I fight, I resist,

              But sometimes I still miss her...

From birth was a friction –

              Affliction – a blister

Now alive, I must die

              Every day and dismiss her

.

Locked away, in tower grey,
The crime of innocence;
And in the streets, disarray,
Observed from the distance
Of a somber penance:
A sinister interplay.