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long have I been acquainted with the night
where slumbers chains have bound me

let me tell you this my dear reader

I do believe that my recent death
was nothing more than an unanswered prayer

and

as I lay motionless in my grave
breath reeking of midnight honeysuckle

the hands of the merciless
ravage my pale skin

of course

I can only imagine
that I still exist

yet my bones make no sound

I suppose I should be jubilant
for as the story goes
"the dead are free"

and with that

I shall forever remain positive
that perhaps this time
death will be kind to me

as I drink in its misery
the sick sweetness passes my lips
and
I cry out in crimson ecstasy

once more
I find myself
silently laying down these pallid bones

lingering in the darkness
I desire him that is treacherous to the soul
the darkest of shadows
the grimmest of times

and only because
the heavens have denied me their graces
the thought never occurred to me
that one day you would be gone

once again
leaving my cold world
irreparably broken

no longer able to lose myself
in the darkness of your ways
my soul has become the sacrifice
for your absence

I still hear your faint whispers
as your shadow dances
upon my bedroom wall

the soft moonlight dividing us

a celestial tearing

where love
and the blackness of death collide

upon ragged knees
I breathe deep and cry out

and

even in death your words feed my fire

I beg of you
give me a reason to believe

for I am surviving only
on your sweetened lies
and am no longer breathing the same air
as I once did

I gaze into the mirror daily

yet

I can no longer tell the difference
between myself and the reflection

watching myself
shatter into the tiniest of shards

and

I have become so willing to sell my soul
to hide the darkness of my reality
which is far worse
than any nightmare I could ever conjure

I long to die
inside the same barren earth
that holds you

but I am still here
silently slipping away
into the world you left behind

lying dark and dreamless
as I bleed
she had a poets heart
filled with never ending pain
from envisioning the atrocities
laid upon our modern world

her silent cries floating away
like a lost carnival helium balloon
to a place unknown to most men
a safe haven perhaps
she can only hope

she walked the busy city streets
feeling the wet pavement underfoot
the neon lights burnt her weary eyes
“Tattoos” flashing on a sign
in bright pink and lime green letters

homeless in empty doorways and users
in the alleyways shooting up
two bit ****** walking the street
to feed their unwanted children

turning her inner voice into poetry verse
tears trickling down in her painful words
she wrote about these things, she had to
because that's what poets do
they bleed for the world

people caged by society standards
the rich robbing the poor blind
teenage girls having babies in dumpsters
and cops on the take that just don't care

drive-by shootings in neighborhoods
people driving drunk and killing children
media reporting on what they choose
and war veterans begging for food

every night she would sit in her room
after exposing her heart to
the tragic textures of the world
pouring out her every thought
in an effort to build a bridge
between her and them
so she would understand

they say she drank herself to death
they found her Christmas morning
pen still in her hand and a box
full of empty paper

only a few attended her funeral
mostly stragglers from the streets
and a few ex friends from rehab
and an old man that no one recognized

he dropped a piece of paper
into the hole
where she was to be buried
there were four lines
that only another poet
would truly understand

Her words gave light to where it was only dark
Her words gave hope where there was none
Her words touched hearts that felt no love
Her words nourished their eternal souls
It must be apparent to you by now
that my innocence has played itself dry
and
my true character has revealed itself
for I am nothing more than
an angel that hides her demons among the shadows

where once tender soul resided

I will tell you this my good man
I have buried my worldly virtues
deep within the cold dank earth
and
Lilith rises within me

it is at this precise moment
that my dark words knock upon your door
and
you must question yourself here

dare you tread
within nightmares and twisted games
or retreat to a lighted corner
to some well-imagined safe place
to keep the monster at bay

fear not my cold breath on your shoulder
as  I wrap you in sweet ebony sin
I promise you
no misery will ever be so beautiful

come dance with me in the shadows
and you will no longer hear
the infernal clock ticking in your head
forever demanding its due

make not a sound my handsome prince
as crimson lips inject tempting lies
dragging you to the blackest places of desire
where numb lips speak no words
and
idle hands do the devils business

nothing more than primal creatures

pale skin and beating heart entwined
my nyctophilia embraces you
vile words burn within your chest
and
the darkness quietly seeps

you long to confess your sins upon milky skin

below dark sullen sky
lying on unconsecrated ground
your chastity pierced by unholy canines

and now, the darkness you shall know well

be careful where you step, my grave is wide
...
she turns black thread
into silk verse
and writes poetry
with every sway of her hips
and the words linger
in the movement of a dream
and even the moon
can’t wear the night
as beautifully
as she wears that dress
fading before my death
becoming a ghost
trapped inside
flesh and bone
and beating heart

and who was I to be...

before...

before I invited all this misery
to comfort me

who was I when
I once dreamed
a dream
that I believed

that love was the only thing
we need
to find our way

to the fields
below the stars of eternity
Those cranes have earned

their sack of seed

They pulled these pencil turrets

through a sturgeon curd of feckless wet

to leave them where they lay.



Because of this

i sit indifferent, satchelled

in an unmade bed,

a simple- headed almanac

of beige and sable rhetoric.



My heritage;

an Eton mess

of trampled roman candles

left, by careless midnight masses

that come scratching at my door.
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