Scapegoat

Hours wake and the dead don't talk, empty stakes in their wayward fault. Some days, beyond the post-mortem stray, where storms chase dragons and old crones decay, I search the world for more than you, but each new location only drew you nearer to those haunted hours, our littered dreams and those terminal flowers we... Continue Reading →

Advertisements

Harbinger

Little girl lost in snow her heart filled with boundless woe We came together, by the see only her bleak soul and me She held me close, my astral bride and together, there, we both died Little girl lost in winter am I just another splinter? We came together, we loved apart she was the... Continue Reading →

Trapped in a Self-made Cage

I think I was more afraid of letting go than I was of you of taking hold than of the words you drew from my empty pockets in my lament and thoughts that stew on empty spaces where I could never make it through to any life that wasn’t pinched like endless lines of our... Continue Reading →

Never

You disdainfully whisper, "time is a lie!", when nothing holds against such empty skies. I found naught in you that was ever mine and those lonely days began such a decline. To what was never there, and never will, as you were never ours, just empty still photographs that may well never have been, draped... Continue Reading →

Angels Of Trance and Tendency

A seraph clutches you to ecstasy, Above my night, above the tears, Equilibrium impenetrable by tendency, Rumours beat the fields for fears, What anticipations came with the changed? Ritualistic significance to shy away from, Beneath the streets, beneath the estranged Flagellation of time’s nocturnal rule of thumb, Will we stroll in hearts of shadow? Hollering... Continue Reading →

Shakespeare’s Nightmare

Shimmer with stillness beneath the moon, recondite dwam connects surreal collision, the genesis of dawn on reflective seance, gathering in circumstance, hopeful,    For a congealed reality to either thaw or further thicken the problems of first world dramaturgy in this laughable, yet course production, strewn across big rocks…    By Christopher Rupley and Phen... Continue Reading →

To A Cricket

I'd never wish death upon a soul, Even demons with serrated kiss Could not endure such fractured bliss, But you, my friend, with rubbing wings Are the epitome of their dark stings! Through water torture I'd gladly sit Or iron maidens made to fit. Yet you, my friend, bastardise pain, And each echo devours refrain,... Continue Reading →

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑