She aches addiction, While withering lives. Black neurosis, a trinket- Scrap petals and knives- To be played Until intrigue wavers And all the world drops dead. On her words, I made us Inside my head. Would Plath be proud Of deaf coveting instead? So many lives, I try to be in time, To be not... Continue Reading →
I listen to the rain As it drums your name Against an empty pane And pain Reflects the world In stencils stretched Across arching street Light shimmer- winter seance In my head Plath Replays in detritus dreams But I am I am I am
A leaf falls From a canopy, Caught silhouetted in komorebi. Shivers Are a girls best friend, And death her lover at the end. While I waste away - Withdrawals decay - And emotive love My stowaway - Come to soldiers in a row, Who cut their throats in days last glow. Our dreams dissect -... Continue Reading →
there is no life here- no intricacy- nor artistry- only wandering empty hours binding to afterlife- where I sway with death- dance beneath the abyss and rendered into end-
To never see your face again Or feel your soul warm the night Is my drowning pool. Soft pit, harsh pendulum, The hours swing and I decay, In life, waiting for quietus. The only way to feel your breath That was never mine to share.
I will cut you from my heart Until my hands are thick in blood. Until your memory is buried deep Into the frozen ground My love now becomes. You are rot on my tongue And will be death in my words. Our epitaph will read: “No more, my darling, only betrayal and disease Live upon... Continue Reading →
I am nought Wallflower of the abyss Waiting for that final Detached breath...
There was nothing And no one Each echoed their own And none knew him Leaving bewilderment And carving misery Empty pathogens tracing sorrow Along blackened lines Until in tragedy alone He was gone from who he knows And dreams he dreamed Empty now Empty shell No boy Nor man Or living will Just empty To... Continue Reading →
Worn, I twisted like an old dead tree bowing to the wind, but kings that bend were no man, and similar words were not your mothers name. We were taxidermy lovers, stitched and stuffed so many times that even moth-eyed girls could not find the light when all our worlds were drained and left remorseful.... Continue Reading →