Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Cold

Winters cold has reached it's depth.
Freezing flesh and bone and.... blood.
Confusion and curiosity besets me in wonderment,
How can dead blood, be more, dead?
Thick it lay within my chest with the scent of you.
Blood with Blood,,, entwined.. we were.
And yet we found ourselves on opposite ends,
Buried deep in icy soil and stiffened satin.
Lie in dreams, I, dream...
I feel that feel, so far away, yet quick in mind
So close as if it were last dusk.
Why do you allow this decay,,, why do we?
We fear and love so violently within ourselves,
So much so that we would prefer to live in this death.

Friday, January 10, 2014

A Storm Is Coming

Rooms just moments ago filled with movement, voices, laughter and interaction quickly have faded to a quiet dark desert of silent decay.
It's become insanely apparent to me how much I need distraction. With the fall of the solitude comes nothingness. The nothingness brings time and space for the mind to think... to bethink oneself in shadowy figures and muted echoes.
Brief flashes of light flicker from behind the window sheers and a faint roll rises from the distance with the promise of thunder and lightning... a storm is coming this night. A cold dark empty house with a night full of raging winds and chaos bellowing about...  ....sounds just like I feel.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Congratulations, You are a Man

Who do you think you are? Spitting your preconceived contentions in such reckless judgement casts...
Spinning your diluted words in seeming boxed construction as if structure in my world to yours, lasts.
What fools deliquesce out into the wind from breath taken and twisted into mendacity and ignorance bliss.
Smile that smile in twisted guile and keep on believing I do not see you for your truest shallowness.
A pretty face and shining cock, does please them when they seek the thought.
Then cast away for quick decay, while your pretty little words mean naught.
To boast and brag with tool in hand, to root and crow "you are a man"!
How nice for you, you phallic clod, to have a dick and think your God.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Immortal Depression

I find the need to write again... not just write but put pen to paper once more in regards to topics my hands and mind have been insanely and with much tedious perfection so heavily trying to avoid. It's been quietly there however, hiding in shadows as usual... the thirst for blood... the desire for the hunt... the thrill of piercing eyes in quiet realization that they have become,,, prey.
Yes that ever growing need to feed becomes deafening and almost paralyzing.
Retreat I quickly before hunger overtakes me and I am no longer in control of my actions. Without my sweet inspiration and the hand of he whom carries my silent cold heart, I have found myself so far past the point of emptiness, I cannot distinguish between the need and the misery. I find I'm  withdrawn to sleep and dreams of centuries of immortality that seems to become more and more of a curse than a gift as the days pass that I am without my love.... and without that crimsoned release... but I must have both or have neither.
I feel my wings are broken... My only desire is to fade away in quiet slumber and lose myself someplace in time and hope he someday finds me once more.

Cliff

Tangled in mixed emotions, I find myself spinning easily and beautifully in soft chaos over the edge of that darkened cliff which sleeps quietly in it's fog of night, peacefully awaiting the hour of my ritualistic visit of finding myself stumbling and falling that silent fall.
As smooth and deep as a brush stoke of thickened red paint on black canvas finding itself pool then run eerily similar to that crimson drip, violent red in sweet satisfaction that I've been lost to for far too long. I embrace myself and close my eyes this time in acceptance of my tormented fate... why brace for a fall I've experienced in the same melancholy dread over and over again in dull and weary entrapment?
Why not this time.... close my eyes and simply feel the decent and in some way allow the loss of control to carry me there and back again without the fear.

Friday, January 3, 2014

Crank

It's rare anymore that I find myself in peaceful solice of private corners. Laying here in silence, I feel the rusty crank on the side of my brain creak in ghostly fashion as if opening a door to an ancient tomb that's been buried and forgotten yet newly discovered.
I have always been aware... yet,,, feeling and knowing are two different things aren't they. Feelings make you mad with wonderment. Emotions will draw you into darkness and convince you that you are lost in chaos... and you are. Unfortunately when it comes to matters of the heart and life in general in most cases, the brain tends to shut down so we never really think clearly,,, we just run around lost in the chaos of flooding emotions.
The rusty crank turns and the wheels spins... Once our minds perceive as truth, we can then begin to search for truth.... and truth sadly can be more maddening than the chaos of uncertainty.

Copyright2014©AngelaVaden