The church field trip led to the most beautiful presence,
The elegance protrude by the sweet scent.

I dared not moved so hastily,
I dared not the red!

Glanced by the peripheral eye lids,
The red beckoned the thumping beats within my chest!

A visual decor permeates from the illuminating of the perfect circle,
And my inner most demon want to ravage it!

I wanted to devour every essense of the crescent,
Becoming one with red.

I slightly move forward so no eyes may pry onto my movement,
Like an orchestra moved to one trumpet to a violin scurry along.

Finally came side by side of the precious glimmer of the curves,
And moved my hand to palm the red's grace on the tilt of it's end.

I open wide to cusp my mouth to bite deep into it's brilliance,
In my teeth feeling the liquid and crunchy of it's body!

Sour taste of salt expand a vigor of darkness cover my mouth,
I look at the apple's plate beneath me read " Ida Red!"

Water upon my eyes,
No longer can chew any further,
I simply shallowed the chunk in my throat!  

"Your elegance beckon me red, but in the end, you have seduced me to bitterness!"

I dared, Idared, ida red!

and as the paranoia creeps in
settling between my *******
the hollow of my throat tightens
with weak and shallowed breaths
my legs, they shake and shiver
under the extreme duress
of not knowing if again his love will wander
leaving me a foolish mess

I am tossed upon the tempest
I am tested on the tide
I have heard the ocean restless
I will by the sea abide

But I long for drier shorelines
Far from sandy bottoms deep
For a tower wrapped in rose vines
Above a sunny keep

I have played in water shallowed
I have frolicked in the spray
But while this sea to me is hallow'd
My heart draws me far away

My soul is meant for moonglow
My heart the  sunny glade
But my home lies far below
Where the coral reefs are made

And never shall I leave it
This realm of wave and foam
For my dreams may be on land lit
But the ocean is my home

Rekindling of spirit
(folding in, billowing out)
with which we end the
day,
I dare you to
leave me.
The sun begs you to stay--
Give him the week off!
He needs a dozen
drinks!
Whiskey, gin, Pinot Grigio,
the whole lot!
He deserves a
feast!

And so the London Fog
stayed.
Coat and tea in hand,
thrown onto the mesh ground
despite,
tea arriving on cue--
Shallowed issues gone
askew,
Heart-screams louder
than the heart-worms
awash across the sidewalk

Day
dark like
Night

The
London Fog
Holds me tight

The world blurs,
As the storm clouds my vision.
I struggle to stand straight,
I cant stand at all...

My breathing is shallowed,
My head is seeing double..
What is this?
Why am I weak?

Stand... Straight..
I cant see...
This world is spinning,
All around me..  

*(faints)

Lyrics written on Church walls
Bashful lurking Lucifer,
Carved glazes of canker crawling on the mead
Drinking vile torments of men
Lucifer hath angel been
Spread wings of human fate
guided men on burlesque dives
through historic and futile rage
Drawing on lost and regained have never been thy aim
For jeopardy in art's name is nothing but a lost game
God and man and Vinci guise
And letters of un-earthly paradise
And decades of poetry sinned
To unmask man through lyrical films
Morte, life, determining naught
Empty pages of science and draught
Realms of here and realms of there
Realms that thy heart found rare
Antonym of fright being scare
Is not what man learnt through time
And there as courage behooves and
Life draws you to her
Death seems close in the arms of beloved
Pain, man's secret armour
bellows courage with a fake accent
Coming of seasons and dawn and light,
Poetic romance fretful sight
World naught ready to love and cherish
Human cans't broil feel
April as thy knows
A heavenly soul of a year,
Brewing rose, carnations and dew drops in time
A certain cotillion towards the other,
A light breathing when eyes met
Beyond the language of the celestial walls
Eve and Adam through bright colour meadows
I see as thy eyelids quiver from haunts of past
And as night descends the maiden shy
With light prance of the lion he prances
Flesh by flesh swoon by temptation
Drops of naive lies
promises of eternity
Battles of Brunanburh
Horses line up to a steady flame
Fishes swim in fleshy rain
Draining mouth of Paris gates
Writing pages of descent
And on with thy fire of the month,
November rose in the wild grass of beams
Battle lost and won it seemed
On another hill a maiden swept her hair
Through rosy gleams and eye of glass
And smiled like the forbidden apple of fate
Jumped like the lion
left in dismay
songs of despair
An orchestra of pain
Nightingale of death bellows of wind
On sunday the fifth he had sinned
she had cried and shown the rose
cigarette and smokes
of nothing proposed
Flesh be thy crime
heart be thy muse
Naughts had been reflected
in thy abuse
Stricken the horror bladder
Rose with dismay
And to **** the canker
in whom the ***** played
Alone within thy celestial walls of God, Goddesses and fate
Questioning thy holy spirit
the mistakes thy made
Entrusted with athenian history
Women bearing dagger
Human sentiments are evil
Lucifer is the rightful dowager
It's him who sheltered blue
Evil is romance
hardly to swoon
The right and wrong and sadness grief
If they see world of poverty
And happiness a myth
And now trumpets of war
And experiences blithe
To see the world anew
whom is right?
If Lucifer the fallen angel saw
what was yet to see
God is a liar and heaven's a greed
Thy stealth steal within bosoms canker
hate, ****, juvenile crime,
Crime is the way
to drive horrors in time
Human history baffles thee!
Social etiquettes and manners of glee
Whom to fool and whom to wrought
The lamb, the tiger a hated must
Angels, demons painted square
whom to whom the battles were?
The right of man to sin and begone
are fated dramas of life and forlorn?
Brew the evil and feed thy good
Awake! Arise! never be fooled!
And sadness a step,
sudden and dark
Thy unending stairs to heaven abased
Lonely as autumn arises and leaves gather
Memories of child and man
Memories of fated hand
Thy walks through
Matured, mind of steel
Anguish concealed
A heavy sigh of a grown mind
Scorns the happy girl
And laughs over her dead pearls
Mind of a grown self
Visits Celestial walls,
The temple, the bed the wrongs
The right is a foolish girl
Inside her body the birth of a new world
the falls the laughs the pain the demands!
The gunshot of life
The circle of hope
And nursing and growing the cherub of flesh
Is they mother nature with a man of crest
The moon as it shines, shows horrors no more
But in thy heart, a maiden sad
To loose all she ever had
But to gain life
and knead love
To love love and to grow above
Lucifer reads bedtime stories
God saves the crown of glory
Life smiled and played along
Death for death
and finding songs
Growing up in lilac storms
She learned to battle and grow a home
Keen on her *** to bottle dreams
Milk and bread is new it seems
Tyranny with a ****** sword
Knives it's prey as it creeps from it's door
But in white she clad and drew the sword at hand
Tears as bows it drew
Battle of ages seen never so shrewd
The good plot for her
The evil shined
Who art evil or good
She painted blind
She called her demons risked her God
She became human is sad of all
Thy maiden story once again read
The man who left
Evil has no name
So good naught trust
for good is thee
Good is evil
That had been set free
Whom to whom
And what to name
Should haunt the grave
or visit a pray
For to pray is a prey
And grave is a paradise
Questions she darted
With wide eyes
I showed thee card where black and white
Rose to fame side by side
God is lucifer
heaven is hell
Man made tricks on walls
For stories to tell
Man is mortal
desires are innate
Soul is thy spirit that lies awake
Death of life is a soul that plots
Stays on Earth in shallowed knots
To be beyond and to see the light
Have naught done that
Life is a sight
Not seen to man, if realised is beyond
To trust in fame is all that is done
Meekly shown courageous sprout
To do good or evil is a judgement about
The religious amenities made by man
To shun Lucifer is yet in thy hand
To pray him is a choice thus
But to prey pray has been man's lust
Again memories squint of thy maid on the meadows
Flesh on flesh haunts thy skin
Shallow breadths and mortal eyes
Rise beyond skies they speak
What sky what ground
What lava and heavenly abode
To grow old in folktales
Aside dusky shores
Man knows all
Man knows good
Good of man
Is a questionable truth
Man knows evil
Man knows crime
Man knows nothing
He is lost in time
Man knows man
is what tale they should
Write on walls instead of evil and good
Evil might harm
And good might ease
But man does both
And later he grieves
For grief hath no church nor temple nor mosque
Grief is inside man's chest
Pumping through his *******
Of Eve's fool and Adam's greed!
Of the canker of the holy grail
Of the lies he feed!
Who art to decipher life beyond life
When life is tormenting
even in it's sight
Who death, desert or leaves the soil
Who plants and grows in thy turmoil
Who loves and cares and makes thy life
Who saves who draws and pushes knives
Who grows and finds peace in thy self
Who plots and fails and satisfies and helps
Who prays and begs and trust in him
Who prays and begs and trusts in sins
What the sins, what the truth
Human beings are born aloof
To end to grow to die or to be born
Man hath no power to tell of or scorn
Man is a flick
Man is a pride
Man draws wars
Man lies
Man brings flesh
Man grows thee
Man dies tomorrow
Man is me.

A peg of person
Hanging on my word
Show'd itself to me
Wooden, carved roughly
Surfaced on linen, varnish
Shallowed man.

He felt nothing to me, at me
He told me riddle body *****
I ignored, bored hated words of worry
But felt them myself, little
Anti-anti-anticipations
And trembling lumps of merryweather met us

But we came to a pond, and drank the green green wealth
We spun a little, splashed like ripples do
Onto a blank canvas of a conversation
Muddy murky words came out
'*** *** ***' little bee, buzz for pollen, buzz for me
I couldn't. I'm not.

I'm not another, you're different, distinto
I'm feeling nothing, angsty man,
Through rides and fairgrounds together
I found a lost child, and he set me
I told you who I am and I found me.

Roughly cut, varnished wooden man
Burned in envy, dusted away
I felt nothing, watched his anguish
And figured, hammered, rutted out
A sense of self-belonging,
I guess we don't belong, I guess we make our own self-pity,
But at least we know.

I said goodbye, he did not, I left the day before yesterday
I wrote a confusing poem to figure it out
And people read it
Quietly I confined myself to words and Bibles written for me
For a bitter version of myself
I burned away, burned away,
Burned my, burned my burned away.

It's funny how we keep things bottled up,
in the dead of the night, dark of the room
the razor was to my wrist again-
it demanded I paint these secrets across my skin
and feel the blood rush to the open wound I caused myself.
Then I looked up and saw myself in the mirror
sunken eyes and hollowed demeanor
this wasn't me.
The light in my eyes was dark again
and the blue where I used to be was now just gray.
So I dropped what was holding me hostage-
and I turned to the pills instead.
I took one, down the hatch it went.
My breath stayed shallowed and harsh
as if my lungs were crying with me.  
I looked down at the bottle
poured it's contents to the floor and counted-
is ten enough to **** me?
I took another.
is nine more enough to **** me?
I didn't want to know.
So I held the pills beneath my fingertips
as if they were the grim reaper
and I put them back in their place.
Nine pills all back in their happy little bottle-
I realized they held more power in my life than I did.
So I broke, threw the bottle and broke the wall.
Then silence.
The only thing I heard were the thoughts in my head
and the silence of my cell phone
that I wished was ringing out to help me.
But I was alone again.
I hadn't felt this low in so long-
but this time no one was around to care.
I thought about how I could end it
and I probably wouldn't be found
until three days later.
As the sun sets and rises, sets and rises, sets and rises again
I would be one with the sky
and I wonder why the **** I want so badly to die-
because the past two weeks of my life
I finally felt ******* alive
like I could breath again-
like anxiety took a vacation with depression
and left me with the optimist to babysit.
But I guess their vacation was short-lived
and they came back-
made a mess of what I had built for myself
what I had been working so ******* hard for.
Chaos.  

So in short, I wanted to **** myself last night
thought of all the ways I could do it-
but then I saw the faces of the people I love
and then they were masked by all the pain I've caused
then that was masked by all the people that hurt me
so my knuckles repeatedly kissed the punching bag
until they bled onto the white cloth like decoration-
I was an artist.
The medicine kicked in-
sleep kissed my eyes and made my mind foggy
and I began to think about all the good things again.
I remembered the way silence was my favorite melody
and I drifted into the nirvana I was hoping for.

It's funny how we keep things bottled up-
because the silence of my cell phone
made me realize how strong I really was.
The secret I keep of last night reminds me
how many secrets are able to be kept.
The war raging inside me isn't one you win or lose-
It's the kind you have to fight in order to survive
even if no one even knows it's inside you.

you. are memories presenting themselves as tightly confined spaces

you. and your mind embodies an image of a locked file cabinet

you. are loaded with information and details

two decades continually growing
those of stories and shallowed secrets

about
you.

you. who dreams of endless emotions that refrain to consume

you. who longs for endless laughter paired with authenticity

yet for you.
you. and your happiness,
whether blooming
by el soleil or la lune

then suddenly something
changes
you. are a microscopic dot
on a worldly globe

the earth makes
space for you.
the universe makes
just enough room,

-for you.

Breathing shallowed.
Heartbeats slowed.
Halted in the real world.
Music rattles.
Goes tap tap.

Skeletal bones.
Boy.
They clap.
Perfect volume.
Rhythm in play.

Hells commotion.
Heels click.
Deviance in devotion.
Feet in motion.

Melted skin.
Viscera folded.
Expressionless motion.
Viscous stick.


Stuck entranced til relieved.
Midnight carriage it arrives.
Steals the dead.
Deceased stallion.
Bequeathed the role of soul collection.

In the dead of night.
Back to the graveyard after death's ball.
Take the skeletons home.
Sleep well.
One and all!



By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Sadness comes with me to you, and I speak the
words in my mind as I cannot say
them to you. Even as my blue grey crosses with

your brown, the emptiness fills my subconscious, as
your unawareness of not knowing penetrates; the drowning of
show and tell suffocates, inside me. Unable I am to satiate

my colours for the map, I drew for you lays unread, in the
dark on your desk. Inside my eyes, unshed tears are
burning, for their way to come out, as it aches and takes

the fabric of skin with them to reveal a shallowed
passion. I wonder, if I should make an end to it, and once
and for all be done with this…

But the look in your eyes, however empty of
apperception pervade into intuitive truth, though deep words
are few. I had not realized, been focusing on

the wrong things all along. So I bid, expand your
vocabulary on me, I will show you the wealth of the vast
universes they can reveal. Into your world they will bleed, as I will

read your little star sign book; and with the way in
which you devour written words, open up your mind and take
mine into it. Give me a reason to look into your

unsuspecting eyes, with a sincerity that is blind.


© 2005

I never liked it when you called me Honey.
It dropped each letter and froze my throat shut.
It shallowed my breathing,
cut off my fluttering circulation,
swelled my eyes closed.
It propelled my heartbeat,
calloused my skin,
inverted my fingernails.
My vision bled,
you laughed at this,
and through my head rang your shrill cackles
as giant gongs infesting all sound.
You thought it was silly,
my transformation,
my drunken anger,
when you flashed your canines at me,
you Monster.
Only the most wicked can kindle their hatred into someone else.
Only the most cancerous find humor in other's tears.

One of the hardest things in his life was explaining why he loved her,
it was like trying to explain the taste of water...
You know it, you feel it, you cherish it, but just can't place the right words...
the depth of his affection for her shallowed the ocean,
it was too deep even for him to understand how he got himself into such an endless abyss,
never the less, he would fall even deeper for her,
if he could do it all over again for she was worth every pain.

It's hard living in a world where no one cares
While your smothered and shallowed by despair
Sitting here wondering why I was born into this place
Not wanting to be part of this human race
Where money is the great and powerful Oz
It doesn't matter what's the cause
I look and see their hearts have grown cold and calloused
Everything is so off balanced
There is no more unconditional love
No help from up above
We have been abandoned
The trumpets have sounded
Humanity has been stripped of it's compassion
Empathy is in short ration
Gone are the ways of old
To these values we no longer hold
Now it's I'll do for you if you can do for me
That's not the way it's supposed to be
But everyone's eyes have been closed
Their souls have become thorny and cold
We are no longer judged on our thoughts and actions
But by how much money we have for the coming attractions
For if we don't have enough to pay
We become part of the play
We are condemned to be the *****
Then feed into the machines of war

©Pauline Russell

It's hard living in a world where no one cares
While your smothered and shallowed by despair
Sitting here wondering why I was born into this place
Not wanting to be part of this sad human race
Where money is the great and powerful Oz
It doesn't matter what's the cause
I look and see their hearts have grown cold and calloused
Everything is so off balanced
There is no more unconditional love
No loving  help from up above
We have been abandoned
The trumpets have sounded
Humanity has been stripped of it's compassion
Empathy is in short ration
Gone are the ways of old
To these values we no longer hold
Now it's I'll do for you,  if you can do for me
That's not the way it's supposed to be
But everyone's eyes have been closed
Their souls have become thorny and cold
We are no longer judged on our thoughts and actions
But by how much money we have for the coming attractions
For if we don't have enough to pay
We become part of the play
We are condemned to be the *****
They feed to the machines of war

©Pauline Russell

A razor perhaps, maybe Pills, A Helping Hand
Which do you choose?
Which is in command?
How did it come this far?

The razor
while sharp and thin
easy enough to do
with a steady hand

Substain the pain
bleed the troubles away
whether just for a moment
or for a lifetime

The choice is yours
one of the most painful
yet nothing compared to the pain
welled up inside

Pills
so many to choose
like Russian Roulette
no telling what damage it can do

Whether a handful or a small few
lying there still
with shallowed breathes
or the violent waves of disgust

The choice is yours
this is the complicated one of many
yet still nothing compared to the pain
welled up inside

Lastly comes the helping hand
The hand of a stranger
The hand of a friend
Whichever it may be

They are your guardian angel sent for thee
To help you light your way
To set you on the right path
from this dismay

To hold you
and keep you close
To wipe your tears
And warmth when you are froze

Most people aren't lucky to have these
so count your blessings well
For if not, the question returns
Which do you choose?

The razor and its cold steel
The pills and their game
Neither should be the answer
just pray

look at my pain and my scars
look at the holes that he cut
deep, deep into me
marvel at the openness of my chest now
the light which is allowed in
now that i am hollow
he shallowed my existence
but deepened my humanity
for that, I thank him
for that, I want you to look at me
for what I am now
different

It's terrifying. Writing is terrifying. The way you get addicted with words and how they come about from the recesses of your mind, seemingly forming themselves according to a syntax understood only by the primitive language of the soul. You try and try again to find that one moment which made you write your very own masterpiece but unable to. And while looking for it, you stumble upon another thought that slithered its way to your conscious and then you realize, this is amazing. Writing is amazing. Seemingly inexplicable feeling make themselves concrete. Tangible. Through words that you did not even realize you knew. It's amazing how writing unravels you. How you get to face and deal with your deepest desires and uncontrollable fears. Your long-buried shame and never healed wounds. How it makes you bleed out all of your negative emotions which sometimes leaves you dazed and confused due to the sudden burst of sunlight and you even wonder if you've got some loose screws upstairs. It's amazing how you just bare your soul for the world to read (judge) but you can't even care because it is what you feel. You even console yourself with the thought that, they're just strangers. Stranger you get to share and connect with even more than the friends you surround yourself with. It's liberating.

But really terrifying. Writing drowns you in memories long buried and emotions long repressed and if not controlled, it pulls you under. Your broken record of the past plays over and over again until anger and pain and utter betrayal consumes you and trying but failing to swim to shallowed waters makes you give up. You surrender to the whirlpool of emotions starting to swirl within you.
You sink and you spend the whole day wrapped up in your sheets with just your pen, your notebooks, your thoughts and emotions. Unwilling to cross the boundary between your room and reality with a storm still raging within you. So you let the ink of your subconcious stain the once pristine pages. The ticking of the clock seems a useless reminder of the passing time because it never bothers you. It's just you and your poetry.
You start getting addicted with the feeling of being able to explain things for once, even if it is in the form of sappy and sometimes disturbing poetry. You crave for the release of pent up thoughts that never found the proper way from your heart, to your brain then your mouth. The usual stumbling words that leaves your lips now glides gracefully through the lines of the pages and it's heartbreakingly beautiful. That sometimes, you even isolate yourself to get under your "writing buzz".

It's (un)healthy but addicting.

Writing is an addiction I am very hesitant (unwilling) to give up.

i write this sort of *******, and they wonder why it's not Pompeii mascara.... they wonder! they wonder!  i'm half as worth to be amused... when they stop making jokes of eastern europe, or how the males make perfect plumbers, and the women perfect ******... how i think western europe deserves a beating and a ****... how i pledge my allegiance to мама Россия: you are, no, surrogate father model type, a ******* ******, hillbilly... colonel i rather pledge allegiance to your enemy than waste my time, licking out your ***... the sober me is way gone... i don't like western europe, i just think of it as a homosexual haven: but **** on me! the castratos can sing in that english county home! like some Italian, my guess! you're the one stressing darwinism, i wasn't even asking! i have no allegiance with the west, it's auper-land to me... a barricade, something the Chinese might add with a sneeze: achoo! Hans! Hans! kraft Honk bei Donkey Kong! für eine Hong! that said, the west is boring with its quest for journalistic freedom... they bore me... i'm satire prone enough... they really are a lost clause to a case, that once might have ringed true... it's when my ethnicity was brought onto the canvas, that i wished them all the more debasement in practice so shallowed, so despised, so... well... me pledging my allegiance to Россия... it's a case of: you just become tired after a while.... too many Pakistanis get in the way... you start to keep / remember a plot... but never earn a living as a plumber... then you rebel... and that's when people start to not like it... but then you're like: hey! no problem! i liked how you dealt with the original problem in the first place! here's to free love! when you heard enough jokes about Eastern Europe... just about then... you turn you prerogatives to a super-power... and you realise that the only slavs in western europe are the rich... so you begin writing, addressing the poor... it then makes sense, only then... ensuring the west is given a firm foundation of an immigrant status to usurp the Apache as worth a sneeze into a hankerchief... there i, toward Siberia bound; i'd laugh when you stopped at the **** and the Paddy... now i don't feel like laughing... i feel like cannibalising your ***; only because vegeterianism is way too risqué, and India is too far away.*

because the real poets said:
give me your everyday!
because the odd poets said:
i love you!
   i said unto mutter РУС:
absolved, that i am,
  overcome by a feeling...
      i have a heart
in a place that delves in all
my ethnically bound women
as mere ******...
not in a "like it's ment to be"
but in: do i really have a care?
then to later rob me of my
tongue; ugly irish! ginger *****!
              set
           it's become a near fetish to
think of nothing but
    a human sordid bone
   when there's a beef allowance
to set my teeth into.
it's a shame to even say these words,
and eat nothing...
        ******* bunch of cauliflower
fairies when they said: there be clover!
there be clover!
    imagine an Irishman that hadn't
enticed himself with Joyce!
   pish poor ire-mann if you ask me.
my allegience still stands with mama РУС,
ah shucks, the romance and the "greek"
in me.

My heart wished to create and inspire in a troubled world.
I sang, wrote feeling words down to inspire those who have felt lost.
My heart's  costs ,through many attempts from those in competition...
Cruel sabotage, threats,sometimes even questions concerning  my own "realness" had became their "selfish lust."
"To get Him Out Of Our Way," sadly, was their crazily obsessive goal Ending in their own dark and bleak oblivion.
You work with me and I work even harder with you.
You work harder to destroy me..I work even harder to never be like you.
You show some love for the creative gifts that I have given you......
You shall have my extra light, that shall shine down upon all who have supported and have stayed "real," too.
For life is meant to be shared with the world.. in a loving, enjoyable, and in a non evil and true self benefiting manner.
Us united artists shall stay well protected
behind
A chain linked fence
Connected  hearts ,like a one strong force.
Continuing in the site of building a defensive wall against those who try and shadow each of our own connected lights.
Blind with jealousy and bitter competitiveness.
These artists , who have become lost,down and  out..they  ended up in the grounds of the greedy and the dark; they stand lost in their own  shallowed  world of theirs..
a sad and true hateful force that shall always fail.
Due to failing to realize one thing....
Us artists..who stay real and together- we shall  never take "an eye for an eye."
We create better things in a collective soul and shed,upon  them, a brighter ray of creative and true-hearted forgiveness.

I have strived for years to become the perfect soul.
not in the ways that you may think, I have chosen to become cold, til the final toll, the beckoned call, I shall accept the righteous fall.

Am tied to memories of bitter cries, til my own eyes, perceived the basilisk bitter sighs, to no suprise, I will call upon the night.

Become what I must this powerful lust of a creature that is raised from dust, the calling of a shadowed bust, a skull that's faded in whitened rust.

Death is nigh for all around, but not from me, I see no ground, there will be no shedding of the tears, as I no longer will feel those that are near and will be released from any fear. Do not seek me out for only you will be found.

Destroyer upon the voyaged seas, crash upon the sirens' plea, ripped from the vessel mercilessly, as my name is called the serpents flee, against the fallens' last decree, you will never be set free.

Of desolation within prismatic eyes, a shallowed breath of discouraged sighs, I hear not the children's cries, crimson skies and broken lies, humanity will see it's demise.

Worlds appear to crumble from a chaotic sound of thunder, awakening all into eternal slumber, from your vessel I shall plunder the souls of every father, child and mother and in my wake all shall shudder as heaven and hell will be left asunder.

And as i dream
My dreams away
Whilst residing
Within the land of Fae

I often wonder
What lit this inner fire
Of far off fantasies
The wild world conspires

And then i venture
Into another dream
Where nothing truly exists
Or seems to be, what it seems

As i wretch open
Until my heart bleeds
Venturing into an insanity
Of life's brutally bitter seeds

But now
My mellowed self
Now hangs upon
A shallowed empty shelf

As i dream my dreams
Of yesteryear
Whilst i pretend
There's nothing left to fear

by Jemia

Your company's like nighttime sky over sultry summer days-
long arms embrace afar across the cooling humid haze.
The heat still broiled into pavement now evaporates the rain
but at its core, the asphalt molten, still sweltered and sunbaked.
I chain smoke my way through another five minute mistake-
again now in tens, I'm alone, still awake;
sometimes, shallowed breaths, then wavering, shake
and unresolved, unrequited, in between aches.

—dreamed and
still (it leavened and dimmed, to sea:
anymore?  —

—wrapped and
lamenting (it folded and hushed, to be:
evermore? —

—warmed and
quailing (it reddened and shallowed, and she:
nevermore? —

I sway with the trees through my window
Ivy climbs up the bark
I play with the leaves through my window
A wind gusts through the night

Branches pick me up and play with my curls
They giggle and set me down
The trees have taken me from my window
Soot and sap covers my gown

I look back up at my window
The ivy has shallowed my room
Their leaves and poison look down through my window
Singing their gleeful tunes

I try to climb back to my window
The forest plants me in the ground
I sway with the trees staring up at my window
My window... my window...