Unread

Slowly drift I, above the gray, that dense fog of misunderstanding that shelters me from reality, quietly floats beneath my perception and suddenly, I am awake again. Back into that terrible place where all is ,,, real. And again,,, I feel.
Finding myself contently sitting in the soft green grass holding the writing that I still await the ending of, watching the daisies sway back and forth in the gently cool breeze, I am so happy to see my overcast sky and hope for rain to come again.
Running my fingers across the crisp parchment pages of the book, I keep reading but find no words... yet I am so intently interested in the story for some mad reason of my reasoning.
I close the tattered tome, tie it's torn velvet ribbons in a soft bow and lay it gently in the grass and try to put my mind upon other things... "a silly thing to be unread" I think to myself, then lay back and close my eyes and hope for the return of gray and oblivion to find me sleep again. Back into that peaceful slumber of bleeding regret and that is lost within it's depths.
Drifting,,, my mind goes into that deep dark place that only you can seem to find me inside of. That sudden beat finds me again and I am consumed with visions of blood and flesh on flesh. Deeper down into the silent sound of all that red throbbing pleasure filling up inside me and that pulsating longing for the release only you can tear from me.
Then suddenly the heat of sinking teeth rushes through my entirety shuddering my awareness and my eyes spring open in both fear and dark satisfaction. I bring my hand to feel the silky wet red epiphany only to find it was all another lost dream.
My eyes focus as small wet drops roll across my face and I come to see,,, it has began to rain at last. I turn to gather my unread binding and tuck it safely beneath my skirt and wait for the moment when the rain will fall heavy and I will can at last rest in it's gray melody.

Inside

Curling round and round in my depths, making me cringe and wither up into a ball on a small sofa in a dark corner of a quite room in which I am doomed to spend my quiet eternity all alone...
I hear rustling of paper and raise my head to see that the source of my intrusion is nothing more than another figment of my imagination.
Quietly still on the dirty wood floor I see only a pre-packed bag who's destination has found itself no further than the corner it was packed in.
Nothing here, nothing there,,, open the door if I could find the desire to put my feet on the floor and actually take the steps,,, find the energy to put my hand out to turn the door handle... for what? To look outside of into a world full of everything I want to see, to do , to smell, to touch, to fall into and to... love... yet only to never be able to step outside.
Why torture myself intentionally that way?
Lying here on the musty smell of forgotten forgots, I smell the smell of red everytime my mind starts to wander about the wondering again and again... I close the magick window in my mind to keep myself from remembering memories that were never there... the red, the dark so beautiful liquid red, burns my soul and is raging violently inside my quiet skin to explode and give me... release.... that passionate angry untamed screaming loss of all control is now quietly lying as lost and desolate in this dark four walled prison as the body that once allowed it's release.
The packed bag sitting there mocking me in the reminding tone of how I had the chance then, yesterday and today to take that first step of that magnificent journey I have already taken once before and ever since been lost.

Another Dead Angel

It seems like forever, trapped inside this horrid misplaced eternity. Steadily shrinking into that dark hole of mediocrocy, I already know I'm nothing special, nothing to be remembered.

"Here Lies Another Dead Angel"

Something generalized to save from the embarrassment of leaving an unmarked rock in the midst of memorable markers. Listening to the footsteps trudge across the dampened grass above as they scurry to continue on with the same inconceivably predestined meeting with eternity that I have experienced.
What was I, that I deserved such an insignificant existence? Why was I, if it mattered to no one but myself? Struggling to live up to that organized superficial phasod, that someone with such an average unmistakably futile attempt at beauty, could never live up to.
It's almost like being a weed in a rose garden, eventually the gardener will find you and pluck you out so that you don't take away from the beauty of the landscape, when all you wanted was to perhaps mask the fact that you're just a weed by merely coexisting with even the scent of beauty. And in all the world of seemingly understanding sympathizers, with their tales of lonesome wanderings, who seem to share the same feelings of misplacement and abandon... I am still alone. And so are they.
Which also brings to mind the questions that turns in my brain like a spinning wheel, turning over and over, yet spinning out nothing but the same thread in a constant search for the end,,, who am I? And why am I here if I mean nothing to anyone but myself? There's supposed to be more,,,
... isn't there? ..

Blood Red

And oh how I fight this need to bleed... to take that which in secret keeps, to take and bleed on parchment sheets with crimson ink of misspelled reads. To spill it all, and watch it reach and drip and spread on blood red sheets.
How comely is the fairest skin that breaks with decadent blood red sin, and fill my every aching whim which makes a my breathless breast fill wind. And breathe it in at last it seems, that scent of life and death that leans, to lean and sway in either way, to take you in or make you prey.
Awake again, with that metallic taste that suddenly alive does make, the deadest dead among the grave and spread those wings, which to thee take.
Spread and fly I off to fall, in lovers arms, in hollow walls, and spill that blood red love to thee, to take it in and be with me. Take it in and one we are, with silent hidden unmarked scars.

Imagine the Rain

Watching the clouds move in,
A feeling of peacefullness sweeps over me.
I feel the breeze on my face,
and I hear the wind
As it's breath hits the trees dancing
Dreamily with the leaves.
Slowly and softly at first
With it's whispers of a coming promise.
I hear the tapping as a light and misty rain
Begins it's melody on the ground.
I smell it...
I hear it...
I close my eyes and suddenly a thunderous echo of applause rushes my senses taking my breath away.
I feel the heavy beating upon my skin.
And I stand there captivated
By the sensation of what started out
A subtle insinuation of an idea
Is now very much an aggressive overtaking.
Covering the earth with its magic,
Filling the air with it's presence,
Removing the acknowledgment of any other sensation,
Chasing away any form of awareness...
I am lost,,,
But I am found...
Lost to everything that was before this possession,
But found completely and nutured by an unkown comforter.
I feel myself forgetting everything...
All that is real to me in this moment is the steady drums of the rainfall, the cool wet breeze against my skin, the clean sensation of the water washing over me, and the breath of enchantment.
I hear the thunder rolling becoming louder shaking every particle of my being, weakening my knees,,, I almost fall from the powerful voice taking control of my mind.
And then it hits me...
A lightening strike numbing my body and awakening places inside me that I never knew existed arousing an awareness that has never been known to me.
I feel it...
Coursing inside me,,,
Filling me with a power nonexistent to mortal touches or even concieved by touch.
A feeling that can only be felt from the inside of the very depths of the unreachable.
I see you...
Then suddenly almost as if waking from a dream,
I am shaken by the quickened stop which is as unexpected as the start.
I hear the echo fading into nowhere that I can follow,
Disipating, seemingly further away.
I reach out but there is nothing to grasp,
I open my eyes and watch it fade away
All the while wondering why I can't hold something that can hold me so intently...
Finally with saddened eyes I reallize it's gone...
Looking around me the stabbing gut wrench snaps me back into the real world..
What left behind in the mud and the gloom of nothingness..
A puddle, muddy ground, slippery grass, and a longing to possess something that is unpossessable.

Wait

Fairly I say I fell away, somewhere between that first and last taste of dark euphoria.

Winding round and round my mind in that twisted indulgent fantasy of falling forever... down further and further I allow the spinning hole to swallow me up into hopefull madness that accidentally buries me somewhere far beneath the grave of the swain to lie in silent wait. Silent wait and silent sleep consumed within the chaos of a world of listful dolor. Lie I here beneath the quiet slumber and still wait... and wonder my heart of solitified desolation,,, for what for if for when and why... .... wait...

Try

Venture, Travel, Journey and Seek,,, To find that place my heart can beat.
Pumping full of all that swells and fills the chambers that does well..
Well with life and love and sweet, sweet passion for that which I seek.
Can it be an easy find, to fill it full and make it mine?
I guess I'll try again, it seems, as all I've done with Silent Screams,
Is push and pull and try to find that somehow breaking fall of mine.
But fall I do,,, and fall I must,,,  and pick myself back up from dust.
For it's the fall that makes me aware that there surely is much more out there.
So keep the path and venture not into the darkened shadowed spots
That call me softly in the storms with thundering whispers of that icy warmth.
That freezing rain that chills me down and how I love to feel that sound,
That silent thump that quakes my soul and coddles me into that silent hole.
To bury deep and rot away and feel that oh so sweet decay,
And cover me in the sheltered grave to find that love my heart once made.

Her Inspiration

03/27/2006

Quiet is the drop of my existence into this infinite shade of red.
And how it makes me long for the dark that finds me in my dream.
I hear her calling to me, whispering in that silent scream of death and eternity.
Dreaming in her forever, of what? I am obsessed with knowing the answer.
This answer along with hundreds that trickle across the membranes of my mind.
The life that was but is more so now... as she would put it.
Delicately drawn from the corners of her brain and laid upon the parchment of my understanding...
Yes,,, Obsessed it seems with an existence I long to have, to hold, to understand.
To fall into it and be lost from those who do not know.
Fly between the sheers of her creations, dancing that lifeless dance that breathes all that is living to me.

Drum

That primitive hum echoes the familiarity of my not so lost existence.
And all the while I feel myself swell full in the awareness of myself.
I hear the drum, beating that rythym that begs me to dance...
dum,,, dum,,, dum, feel the hum, as the rain rushes down to meet you.Falling, in a sudden drop, I could not catch my breath so you caught it for me.
Breathing me in, then releasing back to me that which was mine to begin with... a beautiful nonconsenting exchange, and I wished you to do it again.
Yet you do not come into me. In my loss of control I released myself upon you, for you to taste my soul, take me in, and so I am apart of you now.
Slippery kisses, your trembling hands upon me, I sleep... for the first time in what seems like eternity... I sleep.

A Memoir

02/06/2006

 

I read the writing as I opened the book. Thick and heavy as it was and covered with dust, I separated the pages of it's revelation. Smelling of old ink and thick paper, my fingers traced the rough broken bindings of it's cover.
And there it wrote so cleverly as I watched the ink born each word as  it spoke it's thought for me,,, and then read, "For I was without concious love and he could see nothing in me."
Then a blur to hide itself from my reading as if this message was all I was to receive from the tale told in this ancient memoir.
Nothing more and nothing less, beneath the candlelit glow of understanding. I close my eyes and take in the scent of the vision, embracing the moldy smell of many years past in this abandoned place, abandoned yet visited by myself many times of late to receive  it's aged wisdom and find that part of myself that longs to die along with all that has died here so long ago.
Hiding, she is here, waiting for death to take her and write it's memoir of her tragedies in it's full tattered book that lay upon the shaky table.
I close the book with all it's musty odor and make my way back out the creaky screen door, across the wooden planks of the rotting porch, down the withering steps to travel barefoot back across the thick grass that is so cool and plush beneath my step. Through the woods I reluctantly make my departure, knowing that my heart wishes to remain here for just a time... "just a while", I tell myself. I would love to lay here in the grassy heaven for only a while and take in the beauty of it's solitude.
But I know I will return here again soon,,, however it be not soon enough.

Violently Beautiful

Violently beautiful goes the decay set off to the wind and the rain into nothingness. Nothing,,, becoming something, each day as I wake again to yet another silent realization of the certain impediment attached permanently to the chest bone of my chamber. Pray I.... Pray I each and every relentless night for some sign of release or satisfaction that torments me in the west wing of my mind, sealed off... locked tightly with key lost and forgotten. Again the endless burning and aching pulsates beneath my skin and feverishly I fight off the urge to break vein from any who pass or comes within reach. I find myslef temporarily submersed in the sweet scents of a young muse, intoxicated in her deep blue eyes and soft sunshine hair,,, the opposite of me in all accounts and thus I'm drawn even deeper. But soon, I'm again trapped in my meloncholy grave with no use for her and cast her into the abyss of the forsaken as those who took me for the time that I allowed. . . .
. . . . And cry I softly inside myself for that somewhere more that I can never seem to rise and arrive to.

New Years

1/1/2006

It seems that here I am once more,,
At the beginning and the end.
And I gaze upon the glow of past and future.
An odd place to be...
Wouldn't you think?
Yet here I am, and Time is an inescapable pursuer.
Ticking away, or more so slipping away.
As it unravels in front of me, apparitions of a sort of dream.
Dream... why is it that I stay in this sense?
Why can I not escape it?
Knowing it slips and yet I cannot grasp it.
Passing continuously as a stream.
I could place my foot into the water and feel it rush between my toes.
I could stand here and watch it flow on forever.
Floating by, I feel a false sense of safety.
Pretending I am safe from drowning in it
As long as I stay on shore.
Knowing well that I am convincing myself
My lungs are not already filled with water.
As I float downstream with all the others.
Floating away to be deposited into something bigger
Somewhere between here and the end.
As my last end diminishes out of sight,
I feel numb, sick and tired of endings and beginnings.
Waiting for that stop sign at the end of a road
That never ends.
No turn, no passing, no rest areas...
But eventually it will start all over again...
Another beginning...
Torturing circle.

Grimm

How I love to feel the fade,
And smell the passing of decay.
To be buried deep inside of June,
Sleep past Septembers bloody swoon.
Curse the curse that cut my heart,
To bleed it soft into the dark,
Black and blue so Grimm and bold,
That faded quiet in the room of cold.
Sleep that sleep through day and night,
Tucked neatly in his bed so tight,
Held close from Twenty One to sway,
That gave me love to take away.
Counting moons that pass me by,
To find my grief inside a lie.
So die my love with all I knew...
To find it all was less than truth.
My hand laid hard upon the chest,
Caressing Grimm's inked emptiness,
And sleep I where I wish not sleep,
Lost in dreams I cannot keep.

Cry

11/21/2005

Wash away, With each drop of the liquid cool release,,, wash away.
Sending the hurt and the pain seeping away from that which once saw it as beautiful and lovely.
I want to pull it back in and pretend. Pretend that it's all still alive and still mine.
I want to hold it as much as I want to hold you...Cling to it with dear life and know that I'm lost without it.
I  want to be terrified in the realization that I would waste away into nothingness and die without it.
I want it to stay...

Tell Me

Tell me of your love, dark and deep, carrying me swiftly beyond dreaming and further into lost enchantment. That place I long to lay with you when dreams end and we begin,,, to remain forever.
Swept away with stolen moments that haunt my existence in every awakening of your absence from my touch.
And Oh how Peace does find me still and softly quiet, within those dark windows that show me everything I need to know about obsession, passion and longing... about Love.

Dormant

Wish to find that glow of beautiful discovery cross my skin in radiant beams as on the graveyard angel next door that once was me. Inches close to that feeling of understanding and consciousness that awoke me in the beginning of when I was, I, and could so be... I felt that old sense of being awake again. Putting the deepest reaching thoughts inside my spinning clattered brains onto paper and seeing the reasoning and the insanity in red and grey shades of reality right in front of me...... I am here. All the while my soul lies dormant in the chaos of my bodies ignorant betrayal of exactly who's possession it keeps. Screaming that silent echoing scream to be released and finally understand what it is to understand as I know I knew to do,,, yet I do not now. Again the ashes of my existence filling my senses with that  horrible decaying stinch of my mortality passing further and further into the same words I write over and over but in oddly paired sequences to make it appear as different... at least to me.

Death from the Dead

A tap on my door, I turn in my bed,
Cold shadows in the land of the dead.
Whispers of voices inside my head,
I am not me but he and we instead.

Footsteps in my parlor, a creaking door,
Death with it's innocent stalking odor.
Thousands of souls reaching up from the floor,
I somehow find I'm still needing more.

Ivy covered stone, a forgotten rock,
Nothing more than a good thick hard cock.
Momories of sadistic cries that I mocked,
Suprising to see that in fact was a shock.

A freshly dug grave, in a not so safe place,
A demon's wings with an angelic face.
Scents of his love that once filled this space,
So strong yet impossible to trace.

Sing this song, with it's unholy tune,
By the light of the stars, the newly made moon.
Dance this dark dance, sway and swoon,
And hope that Forever finds you soon.

Blood on my hands, blood on my lips,
A hunger, a thirst, a grinding of hips.
Not in a gulp but in tiny sips,
The warrior his arsonal fully equipped.

The devil on horses, a ride in the sky,
One last request before you shall die.
A whimper, a struggle, happy you cried,
Last visions of a hurtfilled begging eye. 

Muddy Feet

Run and run swiftly thru the murky marsh of thick discontent that lay coldly in the fields of your innocent intentions. Make fast haste and beware the muddy reaches that climb upon your toes covering your feet, swallow up your ankles and consume your legs before you realize your sinking destination does take you without so much as a whisper for help. For it is easy to find yourself lost in the soft shadows of long blades that quietly chant that sweet sound of dark misfortune unbenounced to all intelligent decisions... they conceive even the most sharp witted of philosophers... for everything can be reasoned right from wrong in one way or another since there is not right and wrong when weighed between the reasoning of one man to another... However... is it Wise?

Ugly Whispers

04/04/2006

Singing, chanting, softly dance, in and out of my depressing trance.
Sleeping quietly in that bed, bloody sheets that held the dead.
Curl them up and tuck them tight, and pray that it will end tonight.
While at the door my Dark Prince waits, with bleeding wrists and love to make.
Yet slip I down into the cold, with whispers in the nights echo.
I heard it then, again, and there, telling me he was never near.
Whispers softly in my brain, reminding me I'm no more sane.
And turn I round, beneath, about, until the whispers are a shout.
The lies! The lies, I know what's true, and how I could not be his view.
Oh, cursed it is, this ugly skin, How I wish I could be thin.
I close my eyes and wish that God, would touch me with his beauty rod.
Turn me fair to touch his heart, that I'd become his work of art.
Then treasure me in place of them, and only need my longing skin.
Finally I drift to sleep, with all the whispers singing sweet.
"I'm not enough" the thought, the pain, How will I ever trust again?

Reflections of the Phoenix

03/08/2006

Reflections of the Phoenix 
One breath between us and eternity, and all that we have created in this semi-realistic hole in the universe dies with us.
The writing which gave birth to all that you felt that you thought would never be expressed and if so, never understood, yet you wrote none-the-less, to give life to something inside you that you wanted the world to see and comprehend as a part of you, and in a sense, become a part of them.
The picture taken on that first day that spring whispers it's presence in the wind and you felt it and knew that change was coming, just as it does every year as you watch it and take it in, and remember,,,, bringing something that you saw and felt into a photograph, also to be shared and expressed, to spread that part of your life, that minute that you felt it, to spread it somewhere to someone and exist in someway...
The token that you wear so obsessively about your neck, close to your heart,,, touching it ever so often in passing others to remind yourself that even though you are somewhere unfamiliar and uncertain, that you know who you are and where you come from. Playing with it habitually yet, unintentionally, remembering when it came into your possession and why it bears so much significance to your existence.
The random pieces of artwork, books, doo daddles collected on a weekend night out with friends, tapestries, mementos, favorite movies, your burnt cd of your most treasured songs that each remind you of something or someone dear to you, random pictures of the one you used to love along with the one you love now, mixed with the blessings and offerings of those who crossed your path that wished to leave you with something to remember them by, all filling a room that you so perfectly molded into a reflection of who you are.
All the memories you ponder on, the things you like the most and the things you dislike, things that make you happy and things that hurt your heart. All the weird little quirks you have that make you cute to some and oddball to others. Your dreams, your fears, your secrets, your wishes,,, all the things that you allow those you trust to get a glimpse of but wonder if they ever really see in you...
All that will be buried with you when at long last your last breath is spent and releases all those wonderful things that made you the person you were... and what happens to all that it meant to you? What happens to that piece of you that you wished the world to see and exist?
I have it...
And so does the person sitting next to you, the next person to cross your space, the person you pass in the morning and get close enough to that they can smell the scent of your existence, the person you call tonight and make chit chat with about their day and what you felt earlier about something that was bothering you or made you happy, the person in the room opposite you that you think doesn't even know you are there, the last person you touched with a loving gesture, the person with whom you used to be close to but for some reason they are gone or away yet still existing in some form or another just not with you, everyone that you have come into contact with in the smallest and biggest way receives something from you that leaves an impression no matter how defining or unnoticeable, still it is there...
And I take that part of you with me today and thank you for sharing it with me... just by existing.