I wear the Reaper's desires, hide myself away
He cursed me with his shroud, I've become a Wraith
I scream ****** ******, his jaw forever grins
Everybody dies, and nobody ever wins

Short lived is our hope, and so we turn to faith
Making up our deities to fill the empty space
God can you hear me, howling winds respond
I grip a neck of glass, so the numbness is prolonged

I hate all I see, and I see myself in all
So I watch me **** everyone, in agony they sprawl
Nothing left but bloodied grin and scarlet dripping blade
The clouds cry my anguish, and pelt the muddy *****

Pretty roses splash and stain, madness left to claim the reins
All is shades of darker grey, maroon petals left to fade
Desperate fingers claw my flesh, this nightmare will never rest
For the shadows, they have spoken...and beast, asleep, has woken...

Mirror mirror, on the wall
Tell me how the fallen, fall?

Well now, come now, let me show
All the pain I've ever known...

Mark my words, I marked my skin
Thin red lines of crimson sin

Seeping through their open wounds
The more I made, like blossom, blooms...

So I was hollow, devoid of all
I am how the fallen, fall

Mirror, mirror, just a mask
All they'll see is shattered glass...

Unaware of these scars
for they are beneath the skin.
The air of radiance and joy;
a facade,
one that fools even I.
Still, there's no escaping the night;
the lonesome quiet,
the heart's drumming,
the mind racing,
igniting a riot.
No calm by the sea
or by city light,
by white sand
or gray concrete.
This visceral yearning
will not cease.

a heart is wild
a beating, throbbing beast
held prisoner by the ribcage
hardly contained
within this bony enclosure
ready to leap
right out of my chest
and consume you

poetry runs like blood through my veins
words strung together to emote beauty
or pain, a beautiful necklace wrapped
tightly around my throat, the things
I'm dying to say dripping from
the tip of my tongue. Honey or poison,
both sticking to my gritted teeth,
unable to escape and create
the beautiful poetry
bleeding on the page

If she were to touch you
                taste you
                hear you
                observe you
Fingers tentative
Mouth pliable
Ears fine-tuned
Sight keen
You would taste
like stardust and glass
like galaxies and rust.

listening as the
                          sea hears the
moon and sun
                    cascading flow or
pulling away
                               melded in
*******
                       tortured ecstasy
creating
                      a thousand words
for every birds
                                eye view
my body giving in
to
                               my mind
my soul somewhere
                                   in-between
silent worlds
                             of unseen eyes and  inward probing

               these neurotic bodies
swaying visceral waters 
                                 deeper currents not
complying  as yet in
                               this cosmic
****** of
                       light & darkness matter & void
                      affecting only the surface
pulling back
                          only waves
pushing them back
                to the ever-changing
shoreline
                       when affecting
only the surface  
                              it appears to
be dull monotony
                           at the beck and call of the
moon's every whim...
                                          oh  
and other orbs play
                    their part with her

but infinitely deeper
                   dramatic ebb and
flow
cannot be witnessed
                          by the seagull's gaze

the thoughts of the soul
                           are faint or nil
in the patterns of
                               vision-mind 
our bodies
                         listening to this galactic
dialogue seethe
                            in stagnant waters
when the mind like the
                       moon is all she
hears
or whatever brings
                          in a stronger
signal

we have taken her away
                            kept her estranged as
mutated cells eating away
                     conformed to the
image of an empty shell
                               of a neutral network
caught in a degenerative loop
                                    a dense
gravitational pull slowly
                                leading her along
into the vortex of the
                                   absence of light

yet something our minds
                               cannot understand as
yet is developing
                     out of sight-mind   after
the imploding of her
                                  beautiful
mass

after
                  the burning-out of
countless worlds
                                     beyond
even the furthest reach
                               of the poetic
eye

a genesis beyond eden
                     attempting with
greater resolve to
                          orchestrate the divine
purpose of the
                       primeval garden
rearranged
                           and tuned to higher
******* harmony
                                  the new
birth of soul leading
                            body & mind
her voice
              being the gravitational orb
swaying visceral
                     waters and deeper currents
complying this
                              time around.