Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Batchelor Apr 2020
Kiss her. Kiss her until the creases and folds of her mouth fall into yours, your secret symphony together.

Run your fingers down her head, furrowing into hair, down her neck along her spine, and kiss her even deeper than before.

Hold her face, gently, as if a mere tug would dispel this sacred moment between you both. Delve deeper into her lips, form things unspoken.

Surrender to the chill down your spine.
That's the Sadness leaving your body.
Don't think. Just feel. Become one, until you cannot tell where you end and she begins.

Kiss her. Kiss her again, to breathe her in, her alpha and your omega.
The beginning of April 2017, and the true beginning of a smooth-contoured ending of uncertainty in my veins. Kiss, dip, swoon.
My dear lover.
Here is the Lover's series.
Batchelor Apr 2020
All the love and all the pain
Fleeting and permanent.

Etched in our skulls like the pumping of blood
Circling and twisting like no end for the morrow.

As the load on my shoulders begins to ebb, my spirit feels lighter than it has been in years.

Give into love, he calls.
Go back to the basics.

Slowly this disfigured heart of mine unravels itself, shedding tears I never knew I had.

Like it had been ran over by too many emotions.

A snide remark here, an abusive yell there.

I give in and tell myself it's alright.

A dream lost, firespark lost.

I celebrate my life.

And I move on.
A blackguard, with the sheen of a maharajah disowned.
March 2017.
Batchelor Apr 2020
Let the blood flow
Through these halls
Of the love
That we used to cherish

Let the fire burn
Tearing down
This haunted manor
Of the conflagration of lies

Turn off these lights forever.
These ashen lips bear scarification.
The mirrors I saw you with, shattered.
My pride bearing the brunt of the ruin.

Where molten ashes once flowed
Only cooling blood remains
Sticking to my feet, like a vise.
And I left, troubled mind going back to black.

The crown I wore, the jester's hat I adorn my head with now,
With the Kingdom in rubble,
I go back to her, and you go back to black.


My blood now settled, with the rebellion awaiting their Red Queen once again.
The ebony sea parting for the ivory pedestal to place your head on.
The tapestries in tatters, madness apparent in your eyes.

And I hold her hand, going back to black.
The pindrop silence shattered with the black disquiet.
Black curtains, with the grey smoke.
Black lips, rotted away.
Black memories, in my ashes.
Black speech, into my stride.

We go back to black.
The toppled bride, the dead love that couldn't go no further, down the side of the coronation tower steps her head goes ; the boy, the dog died with her a long time ago.

Now, the Black God, The King In Black, The Beast, The Lord Of The Moor rises.
A union of red and black, no longer in doubt.
March 2017.
Batchelor Apr 2020
Ditched by the people I used to love
Thoughts dashed apart by uncertainty
But hey, it's my life.
Lord of what I see, king of the carnivals of ruin.
On hold, is what we are.
On hold, is what we were..
I can't hold on, to an empty space.
But I've learnt to take it easy on myself.
Yeah.
The new intros.
The old rusty confessions.
The islands, the bridges now burnt.
My life and yours, in VCR.
My breath, chained in yours.
This basic space, together.
In the sunset that never came.


Her records start to screech to a halt, my tears begin drying up.
Her portrait begins turning blood red,
my foaming mouth closing up.
The slow slide down into uncertainty ; the slow decline and realization I let my scars fester too long ; not even picking away at the scabs would help me now.
February 2017.
Batchelor Apr 2020
In this darkest dungeon
Men with scars march to uncertainty
In promise of wealth and glory
Or perhaps for some penance

Silently they ensure grotesque sights
Macabre beings by its end
Blight corrupting life's blood
Time at its cruelest and most ironic
But the ticking matches with every heartbeat
Their saving grace, the dying torch
And their tears, all dried up and wizened

Composure collapses as comrades fall
Mind's grip loosening and squealing
Insignificance breaking them
The thoughts and regrets
A spot of hope in the darkness snuffed
Just as quick as it came

A thudding heart in the void
A thudding madness
Where do they tread on now?
The chanting grows louder
Dry lips, bloodshot eyes.
Finally, their tormentor in sight
Gnarled fingers tremble in sword grips
Bowstrings fiddled with, dirks clanging

Vapors give rise to rage
A vile disgust and unfathomable sorrow
A dread affirmation of nihilistic proportions
But nothing mattered, except the moment.
And the screaming of the void halted
The beating of the heart stopped
They fell to their knees, never the same again.

And finally, it is rain in the forest.
Inspired by the author's fascination with all things Lovecraftian, thus leading to Darkest Dungeon, a *******'s dream come true in an TBRPG.
January 2017.
Batchelor Apr 2020
A day with you
Let's see what it has
The anxious waiting for you to come in sight
Silhouette coming into view
And my smile, a welcome reflex
The sun comes out to greet us both
I'm happy in the sun (you)
Snakes slither across my spine
In your embrace
Cold pit, warm furnace.
Signs of hazard stop

Like coming under fire
The rain pours (shelter)
Blazing defiantly like the sun
Your touch like sugar in jam
Viscosity of this vice you hold me in
This sensation you hold me in
Entropic
I hold this memory, fond.
Through the glass, of Old World Blues.
I hold this memory, love.
Through the glass of heartache I now hold.
January 2017.
Batchelor Feb 2020
Tried to say something but all I have are maggots falling from the rotten gums
Felt cold and it was the knife twisting and turning rusty in my gut
How did it vanish like houses of cards
A clinking of glass the swirling of colors
Electric scraping on tangible tastes
The moans on loan from cascading faith
Oh Lord Almighty, feel me now as I sin
Wrong you
Lie to myself
Cheat on you
Let go of you
This perfect drug
Are we having fun yet?
Watch as he careens.. finishing in a pile of guilt and torment.
January 2017.
Batchelor Feb 2020
It's just so difficult
When old scars remain
When love is supposed to be cherished
Instead bloodied foreheads and redeye is all I get

It's just so difficult
While pain lingers
While hate takes over life
And the broken bones and open wounds
is all I have

Help me I'm in Hell
Help me I'm in Hell
Only death awaits
Whether you come to save me or not
It feels that you will just be content to see me drown
I was a mistake.

I'm playing second fiddle to you.
No such thing as champion for good
I'll gladly embrace the devil in me
If only to forget your promise.
As my heart shrivels up,
And my soul distraught,
I assimilate just enough of guilt,
And annihilate any chance of the naive me coming back.
January 2017.
Batchelor Feb 2020
Old feelings bubble to the surface,
Finding my tongue tied and heart slightly scarred from all you've done.
Oh, she who once I called sister.
Bound by ties stronger than blood,
And spirits lighter than wine.
How I've missed you.
Cause you, you just know.
You just do.

And I've watched things on this screen, appear and disappear faster than we both would know.
And her hand, so soft in my cracked palms and ashen lips.
Feel the dark rhythms explode in your breast.

I took myself where I didn't wanna go.
I dragged myself down, I used myself up.
Perhaps you left because of that.
You were being replaced, perhaps that was the fear.

But these blood and tears, erased like the gut-wrenching confessions and years of pain.
Crawl back for more, back for more.
I crawled to shore, not knowing it was running out, the continent shrinking to an isle.

We'll lose the ones we love,
Lose the ones we most adore,
Yet we go on, we go on.

Blood and tears, through sweet release we share in death.

Everything seems so worthwhile.
For a moment.
For a moment.

What is it that I'm waiting for?
Waiting for words I barely know.
Life kicks me in the teeth, but I still crawl through these torrential blood and tears.

And years crawl on, and the death I hold is now complete.

It is a burial at sea.
A Viking pyre.
... And the silent dissonance of perfect insanity.
And here I come to you, dripping from my wounds, blood.
And my tears, phase through my eyes, choke them down with water when you leave me all alone. Here I am, so rock me like the hurricane you are. January 2017.
Batchelor Feb 2020
Like a ******'s mess of a mind in a rut to get his fix, I ran from distraction to distraction.
The original sin of knowledge, and innocence lost.
They cascaded like raindrops on my face, and became **** on my windshield.
Slowly, becoming perhaps more bitter and jaded, a basic ***** to life and her schadenfreude.
A single desecration of desexualized thought, and that was it.
I wanted more.

I'm forever missing you.
I'm always chasing ghosts, even if I put them to sleep.
The thoughts hovering like hummingbirds.. for once the sun belonged to us.
Our nuclear sun.
The ray of light that once belonged to me. And me alone.


I miss you.
I'm forever nuclear whenever I think of you, for your voice echoing in my skull is the only thing I hear these days.
The guilt is pronounced even more here, before the chains slip off and memories become nothing more than a way to increase The King's efficiency in his ruthless hunts. January 2017.
Next page