What am I doing,Dragging out word after word,In the light of day.My poor, hollow-eyed children:These damnable posts.I lie back, refresh the page...I'm so full of shit.
To each, a long task,Subdued in memories lost,A Purpose set clear:Vagrant souls, pour your sorrowInto cups of golden song.
To struggle through life,And be king of my own mind,Just to wake, again.
It's so quiet now,Between the space of heartbeats,Growing ever longer.
On some listless days,Between the sound of my sighs,I just cannot write.
Patio lounging. A muse in billowing silk. Arms bared, gentle breeze. Noon-sun sweat and wanton sighs. Breasts rise, hearts flutter. Garnet navel piercing. Hot. The darkest lipstick. Tapping fingers on the hip. Mirrored eyes linger. Her frown is always yearning. A glass of iced tea.
Faithless though I am,I am devoted to Her:My cruel, heartless Muse.
I've been sleeping more lately,Troubled by ephemeral dreams,That (clichéd though this may be)Feel more real than reality seems.While good for inspiration,I'm concerned nonetheless,For in my waking starvation,I'm becoming less and less. Better, I suppose,To dream and chase phantom love,Than let my soul die.
When she did not wake, she burrowed Deeper,Into the corpse-skin of the world,Where she stole the magic from forgotten gods,Ate their powers and awful disparity,Until she vomited her mortality,In the form of wriggling worms,Many-legged and blindingly yellow,(Though when crushed underheel,They leave beautifully red stains). Because she could no longer walk,Having sprouted too many eyes,She dragged … Continue reading To Dream Too Deep
Milk-rust and rose petals, Flowing in churning streams, Through ancient forest clearing, Weaving infinite songs, Whisper sensual calm, For a broken War Machine, Which can no longer recall(lost so in cartesian spirals), until sleep once again gleams, Like a dagger of diamond dreams, sheathed in soft, sapphire silk.