It was the type of storm that would either complete or defeat me.

Breathe in the night and let your thoughts take flight.

You are the crow that sits atop my tombstone.
Ever-lingering.
Above me, around me,
your presence surrounds me.

I am bound to these mortal grounds,
but you know no bounds.
You fly away, through the night and day,
only returning til you are in dismay.
How I wish I could keep you here to stay.

But I know you shall always fly away,
so I will remain here,
even in my darkest of days.
For you I would give my heart
that lies hidden deep
within my grave.

Flames and ashes, a testament of my love for you.
Fires set upon the world,
so that you might feel the warmth of my love.

Screaming in agony,
as you tore this heart from me.  
I dance upon the debris,
as I play the final symphony of you and me.  
Lost within the internal inferno,
I'll let the world burn for you.

I am a limb attached to you.
I was a part of you-
The part that was your slave.
I did your bidding,
But nothing was ever enough.
So you slashed your own arm,
But you did not feel my pain.
No longer could I bear the burdens
That you weighed upon me.
So with my own hand,
I severed myself from you.
I am now a limb alone in the world.
Blood still spills from my side,
As I am incomplete without you.
I try to grow into my own body,
But I was only ever an extension of you.
Never was I whole,
So within me will always be a hole.
Severed,
I am free,
But yet I am helpless, just how you taught me.
Enslaved to you I shall always be,
Though now my body is free.
Oh How I long,
To find what is me.

Two weeping willows met amongst the most barren of winters.
The willows thought they were alone in this bereft forest,
til they heard the cries of one another on one fated, desolate night.

The lovers of the willows had left them with untended leaves and desiccated roots. So the willows weeped, in hopes that their cries would reach the once tender hearts of their loves. Seasons passed, and their cries began to subside. The willows began to droop by the side of the bay, until they caught side of one another.

The emptiness in the heart of the willows craved anything to fill the deep aching that had begun to consume them. So the willows began to lay down and extend their roots to one another along the coast of this Stillwater.

The willows began to blossom again as they shared their waters with one another. At long last, the trees had found their forest.

But one day, as the willow slept, she heard her lover whisper in the night. When she awoke, she could see a fire far off in the forest. She knew her lover's tender was to return. She begged her lover to stay. But the willow would no longer listen to her cries. She ripped her roots from the ground and left her lover to die. The willow could weep no longer and became one with the bog.

I am the devourer of men.

With my eyes, I hypnotize.
Behind my back,
I hold a dagger, desperate to be quenched by the blood of your suffering.

I whisper to you secrets
that all men wish to hear,
just to pull you near.

My lips seep with your elixir,
Losing control,
unable to let go,
To you, I am a desert rose.

So you let go….
Into me, you sink
As I devour your soul.

I am the deathwitch of men.
Bewitched by my beauty,
I devour your heart,
In hopes that I might find my own.

With each breath I take,
I inhale you.
With you, a world once bleak
bleeds ultraviolet.
Inside, a nothingness consumes me,
til I consume you.
The more of you I taste;
The more I must have.
I see a sparkle in your eyes,
deluding myself that it is I who changes the shape of your iris.
I look to you for love,
and you offer me another bump.

Without warning,
Your high fades,
And you leave me in our white dust,
in search of your next line.

The emptiness we all feel
That none of this is real.
A fire once swelled within,
But we have all been stripped from our skin.
Swallowed whole,
By this black hole
That our existence
Is not our own.
Used and splayed,
To the human Gods,
We are slaves.
Burning within our own skin,
Why won’t my body let me in?

I look to the women who smell of gardenia,
whose lips have been kissed by roses.
How they sway so gracefully,
giving life to everything they touch.

One cannot help but to be enamored by their beauty.
Each word from their mouth feels like honey to the ears.
So gentle is their touch, a caress that draws you near.

But every time I touch a flower, it soon withers and dies.
I try and emanate their loving touch, but claw marks are left, and everything around me turns to dust.
I pray to the moon, hoping she might teach me these secrets of the feminine,
yet I seem to lack this untold beauty that they hold.
I am wild and rash, too loud and brash.  
Banshees and Wolves are the feminine in me,
but yet I long for the beauty that is gentle and clean.

And when our corpses are six feet under,
I know our bones will find one another.
Rotting away through human decay,
our love is more than a mortal display.
I will take my bouquet from the flowers placed upon the graves.
With this cup, maggots in hand,
may the moon bless our matrimony far below the fleeting world of man.
The souls of the tombstones awaken from their slumber, as we profess our undying love for one another.  
Our spirits will dance among the deceased,
as we are wed,
rotting six feet beneath.

To speak a word
Is not to feel a word.
To write a line of poetry
Is to feel what cannot be spoken.
For when a word is spoken,
It is taken to our common realm.
But art is to take us
Beyond the realm
Over Which logos rules.
Poetry is a transporter of the soul.
Poetry is the Charon,
Not of the living
But of those whose heart is dead in this cold world.
For Hades is not below us,
But within us.

I sit alone,
Content with myself,
Until I see you.
I look across the room and glare at your wrinkled skin.
You sit there, almost lifeless.
Then you see me staring at you.
You stare,
Or might I even say glare back.
I can see the envy in your eyes,
Envy of the beauty that you once knew.
Youth has escaped you.
Once more you look me up and down, but this time with a smile.
For I am what you once were,
And you are what I shall one day become.
We fear one another, not because of our difference, but because we are confronted with the inevitability.
As long
As I am here,
So shall you be.
And soon, my skin will wither away.
So I step away from the mirror
And step into the light.

In this world, alone I stay.
Never have I seen a blacker day.
Alone we shall come, and alone we shall go
through this bleak, lonely road.

Trapped and confined within,
I am a slave to this skin.
No one can see this darkness I hide,
so I sink deeper inside.

Alone I shall come, and alone I shall go
on this weary, senseless road.
Time is neither a friend nor a for,
yet it hangs above me like a listless crow.

The scythe is summoned,
so I heed the days.
Without warning, without sound,
eternal darkness shall abound.

A broken dream.
A sky devoid of colors.
A soul sold to the existence of another.
A body drained of its being.
An ocean fallen to the desert sands.
A cloud fallen to the ground.
An eye that has looked too long
to the sun.
A cigarette burned too fast.
A spirit
Broken
by the nonexistence
of existence.

I still cry over you,
into the deepening of June.
Sometimes I wonder if there's anything I could have done to make you love me too.

You chose her over me, and yet my mind can't let it be.
Your memories wash upon me
as I drown in the sorrows of you.
Even in rest, you reign over me.

Your voice plays through my head,
making me feel like a madman.
You could beat me and bruise me,
scoff me and scorn,
what more will it take to release my heart from this place so forlorn.

A duality stirs within me.

A horned goat flashes its blood stained teeth,
with an evanescent haze that traps me in its vengeful gaze.
How I crave a blood so sweet,
one that only the goddesss Lilith could serve cold enough to eat.

Wrath consumes my mind, with a power that deludes.
Kali Ma grants me her weapons of destruction,
oh how I yearn to embody her death dance.

Yet my heart is pulled by the goddess of love.
She enchants me once more,
and the veil of an imago wraps my yearning heart within.

I am neither the Kali nor the Aphrodite, for both lie within.
As above, so below,
as the shadow, so the soul.
May Baphomet guide me down this untraversed path,
and may all who stand in my way feel the power of my wrath.

Her love was of fury.
It burned me alive.
To ashes I was burned.
Within the wrath of her scorn,
how I longed to be her
Evermore.
Cutting me open,
drenched me in my own blood,
Making my vessel her ritual.
My body would slowly decay by her side,

To die by her hand,
I would not mind,
For She was the only thing that made me feel alive.

I am your shadow,
and you are mine.

You cast onto me,
what you so long to hide.

Hidden away from the light of day,
a figment to you I will remain.

You cannot find me,
for I am hidden in plain sight.
You are but a stranger to the darkness in which I delight.
And yet my being mirrors your soul;
I am the part that makes you feel whole.

And in the end, we are doomed to never fully grasp the weight of eachother,
for I am hidden,
while you are in the arms of another.

To be seen is to be known,
so I hide in plain sight.

Elusive I appear;
to none am I near.
But if you were to push past the curtain,
you could glimpse into what once was a person.

Shards of glass have entered my skin,
leaving me scarred,
burying myself deep within.
A walking grave some might say.

My soul hides from the light of day,
for it is here where my mask would melt away.
So I shield myself from impenetrable forces.
Imprisoned to my solitude,
yet solaced in my suffering.