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Vulpes Feb 2018
I lean towards the evening sun
My body feels beloved and warm
My arms hold tight the wind's embrace
In leaves and blossoms I have raised
When flowers dance to breeze's chime
In golden dark and crimson shine
And night creeps over land and sea
As happiness and sunshine flee
My petals leave this bloom of me
And waltz to my last elegy.
Vulpes Jan 2018
I feel her on my skin
Her eyes piercing my walls
Her talons scratching my wrists
Her lips caressing my neck
Her arm is wrapped around me
Her hair strangles me
Her fangs dig into my soul
Her desire engulfing me
Her urges rising inside me
I am hulled in her sweet bliss
Her scent fills my nostrils
As I ******* blood
And embrace the void I created.

And she
Leaves me alone.
Only to return
Vulpes Jan 2018
On a lonely pier at night
Thousand lights dance in the distance
Me, I'm dimly lit by nothing
But a lantern near my side.
Bathing in its warmth and glory,
I look up to thank my giver-

rotten. eyes. stare. back. at. me.
dead flames
i. freeze
i run


I feel my body fall off the pier
w a t e r
I sink into the lake I eyed

as my soul flees from my flesh
the lantern suffocates its spark
and i hear the screaming noises
of a thousand burning flames
endless choir of countless voices
singing 'long the sounds of death

And I
Remained quiet.
Vulpes Jan 2018
Warm waters ripple underneath my feet,
Mist softly caresses my surroundings like a fuzzy blanket,
Nothing but a warm wrap on a deathbed.
I'm flying.
The sea beneath my feet freezes as I descend upon it.
A catwalk to my judging headsman.
I refuse to walk.
I fly.
Without destination.
Without meaning.
Until you touched my hand and I turned around.
Vulpes Jan 2018
I once had a great friend in my childhood years
Back when my world was two blocks wide
A wise owl, hulled in a cloak of gray feathers
Tainted innocence that once shone like snow.

One day, she called me to meet her again,
But all that I could find was a dying bird,
A being closer to death than life itself.
A friend that had only one last wish.

To share her conscience.
To preserve her knowledge.

I foolishly accepted her humble request,
Fully aware of the consequences it brought,
Foolishly waiting to carry her learnings in me,
But shocked to received far more than knowledge.


Realization is a funny thing.
For some, it is power or fulfillment.
But if ignorance is bliss,
Then I have been cursed.

I never played much before,
Until I was given a blade,
Playing the knife game every day,
To feel the cool edge inside my skin.
It was

Like the sound of breaking bones,
Noise that invades my mind,
Like a broken record,
Screaming out its elegy.

I have been smothered.
Between the weight of living
And the weight of realization.

Realization is not a destination.
Realization is the end.
And beyond that
There's no beginning.
  Nov 2017 Vulpes
Chopin's Nocturne opus 9, number 2

A sonorous performance,
The mellow yet melancholic undertones of the masterpiece reverbates through the meadow
From the reflective rubato streaking past the flowerbed,
To the passionate conclusion in a whim, echoing through the garden,
The garden in which a willow rests
Its twigs holding a chalice in its embroidering,
Twines glowing in the shimmering of the silver moon,
Its dark-red fluids seeping from the cracks

It gazes through the dark crevasses for an eternity,
A panorama of planets and stars dwindling to dust as it stirs its nebulas,
Clouding its view as in parallel,
Universes as large as needle tips deteriorate to nothing

There's just naught, nothing, nothingness,
The black mass piercing,
Puncturing the veins of the solemn soul wandering through the canyon
Rubato, stringendo, it walks its own pace and in its solitude
The moonlight its guide, the music its guardian
The darkness its friend

The walls enclosed - an impasse clad in an aural hue descending from the stars
An eternal mirror flowing accross the pond
It took a gander in the deep lagoon and saw the galaxy unfold

Sparkling candenzas fluttering through the sky like fireflies
Ever abiding, expanding galaxies within the grasp of its cortex
The moon flows, the stream flows
The sound of drizzling water emanating from the distance
Timeless endeavour snaps back to reality

I found myself sitting in a dim-lit room, glass in hand
The mellow taste of the blood-red wine
A bouquet of fine grapes with cherry undertones
In the corner rests the mirror I gaze in occasionally

Seconds pass and I gazed into an abyss

Minutes pass and I gazed into an abyss
A murky shadow lurking

Hours pass and I gazed into an abyss
A murky shadow along two red stars

Days pass and I gazed into an abyss
A silhouette hued in rubescence grimacing with hollow eyes

Weeks pass and I gazed into an abyss
T H E  E Y E S  W A T C H  M E  W H E R E V E R  I  G O

Months pass and I observed a whole new universe
As I looked at the crevice staring back at me
It smiled and reached its hand

Years pass and I gazed into an abyss
The opaque mass piercing my glassy veil as familiarity reminiscences
A supernova of grief and destruction strokes my back, pinching my neck
The willow is dead
The moon is red
A brittle chalice crusted with blood

Then it fell silent and yet the nocturne faintly lingered in my head
As I stared into the mirror for the first time in centuries

It stared back, bearing the most unnerving grimace
So this poem is pretty personal, too. It is dedicated to my nemesis: the view of myself in the mirror.

Looking into a mirror always unnerved me. I didn't like seeing myself and combined with my ****** up sleep schedule, there was a chance I hallucinated quite a bit. This poem describes a drwam state until the awakening, describing my fear in the passages after, as well as the hallucinations.
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