Gothic Fantasy Prayer

Gothic fantasy prayer,Cold fingers crossed under moonlight,Grown heavy with memory,"Words without thoughts"; endless night.

Disrobing

After the party,Our exhausted bodies sprawl,Through the foyer doors,Slinking to the living room,Opulent, pristine,(Because nothing lives in there)My red-wine breath fogs,While your dark dress falls,Pale, moonlit skin, bared like knives,So soft and so cruel,Cuts into my blurry mind,Your wrothful embrace,Kissing, clinging, poisoned lips,Our lust fills our hate,Nothing else can satiate,Spent blood, exhausted,A push and pull, …

My Sweet Despair

I am a Mayfly,A life that ends in a day,A faint light snuffed out.The clocks portend my last death,Over and over again.

Heart. Attacked.

Timing is sublime,Rhythm off, growing hotter,Watching her lips smile,Hands touch, a muted laugh shared,And it all ends with a pop. I am so sleepy.A heavy heart drags me down.At least it's warm, here.

Again

This warning was written,Upon the ruins of state,Made by poor shadows:"I am the danger of pride,The end of all cruel empires."

Self/Loathing/Others

The clicking of my keyboard,Draws formless thoughts on blank screens,My vacuous imaginings growing leaden,While rose-tinted dreams drip drip bleed. To think once these hands,Held yours and satisfaction both,But now make vapid commentary,On loves lost,For idiot strangers to gape at,And simpering fools to sniffle to,While I forget forget forget,With every stroke of the ENTER key. I …

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Some days I don’t want to write, I want to scream, I want to drown in my own insecurity, I want to wallow in this tepid depression, I want to be held by someone who cares, And then I want to tear out their throat when they betray me, I want someone to rightly call …

Through Pain

I’ve a nostalgic sort of suffering,An ear infection, if I am to understand(or a slender blade piercing either side of my skull)Hot pads and an old dryer relieves the pain,But it’s the deafness that swallows me in helplessness,Waking up in the middle of the night in tears,Weeping at my pitiful helplessness,Weakness of my body wracked …

No Partnership Survives Fame

Once, we took our pens to cut our throats,Spill our blood onto the kitchen tile,So that we could write poetry with our toes,And allow us the chance to finally be free,That we might die die die to feel alive. But publicity makes all of us turncoats,And all those stupid posts've gone viral,As it starts isn't …

Planted Fruit

Before he loved me,He loved another like me,And so another will come,With my eyes and mouth,To plant kisses on his frown,And eat the fruit of my work.