Of Artists and Passion

She paints in blood and memories,Demanding of herself everything,As her soul is poured over the canvas. He sings his shattered arias,Music crafted in disharmony,His voice cracks to utter such perfection. She writes her poetry while dreaming,The words gifted from forgotten friends,Like a muted plea to be remembered.

Game Logic

It is our curse to rise again after we have fallen,To commit to the agony of reliving day after day,How many times have I died, only to wake once more?But giving up is an anathema -Aren't we trained to move forward,And grasp for the next reward? Endure. Struggle. Live.

My Muse Chuckles Darkly

Roused I from a dreamless sleepless chill, Summoned to the study, cool and still, to find my patron sleeping deeply, poured over cantos stolen cheaply, Cobbled by whispers of ancient lore, Having discarded me, long before. So, having loved him, rob I his sight, Allow him to dream of endless night, Perhaps the Dark Stars …

A Prison of my Own Making

I stopped this morning, All the thinking.Gulping air with sightless eyes,The constant bell-ring in my ear,The stabbing knives in my mind,Slowly faded.In my thoughtless breath,I rode free from the flesh,Beyond the blood running hot,And the thousand-thousand thoughts,Coalescing into the mortar-mess,Mortarium,That cages my feverish consciousness.

Staring at the Cut

I stared at the bloody cut between my body and soul -It is not a physical sort of pain,This doomed wound,It is the absence of being, the gap between, a hole,Wound soundly around,The very concept of what makes you whole. Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Wound” as part of their Quadrille …

Luna Wept

Luna wept to behold her visage,Upon the inner lakeshore of Skye,And on the precipice of the rocky crags,Her tears ran like vinegar light,Rivulets of her loneliness dissipating, Smelling of burnt sap and children's sighs,While I found myself growing old,Drowning in her long lost love.

From Skies to Concrete Walls

She embraced change as an unwilling participant, Nostalgia's enlightenment mingled with crimson breath, As florid blooms behind her eyes leaked, Cosmic insignificance trickling down her brainstem, She gasped, an inconsequence of time ever-flowing, Then slept in the arms of sweet nothing. ~0~0~0~ She embraced the change as a willing subject, Took medicine with practiced sips …

Eternity’s Heartbeat

There's a purity to loneliness,My quiet country bleached by sun,A sandy horizon unbroken,Where time stretches and shrinks,Until all my thoughts are captured in a sigh. If I close my eyes, I can hear oblivion,The gentle hush of an eternity's heartbeat,While my own dreams spill into the ether,Until even I am a distant recollection,Like salt on …

The Agony of Creation

It begins with a word, gasping in the dark, Whereupon the echoes of its birth sound to heaven and hell, Far cries become whispers as they fold out into the infinite, The song begins. From darkness is light, from light, a furtive mote of life, Until this desert is populated by so many humming grains …

Echoes of Ville d’Ys

A sense of drowning, I cannot elude, In this interminable solitude, There are so many holes in my bedroom, Pouring water in gouts of sea-green blooms, But when I flee from these confining walls, The sound of rushing water follows all, Even the city is littered with holes, Gaping like oceanic nightmare-souls, Swallowing consciousness without …