Wicked winds weaving woes touched the traitor's tool that betrothes barren, broken hearts. Her Highness, hurting wrecked wings, weary wraiths strangers, sickness, Sunlight screams Nightmare Knights: knock, knock, knock Creeping, cloying, clawing at her clothes.. She waits.
She always wanted to Taste the barrel of a gun And eat a bullet like A gourmet meal
She sits so close to me yet so very far away Unaware of my presence ignorant to my existence Her shoulder brushes mine, just slightly she touches me so lightly but the pressure crushes my soul into a finite fragment of infinte suffering Her subtle warmth engulfs me in flames of silent passion every single … Continue reading Reserved
My country 'tis of thee Sweet land of unliberties to Thee I sing. Land where my grandfathers died drunk on hooch, slaves, and pride. They hide atop the mountainside Far away from suffering. This is not OUR country Once great land of Beauty Now My Lady, corrupted maladies Humankind of quake, fire, drought, and rain … Continue reading Independence Day
Her soul, hidden so deep Caged behind pale eyelids Lined with thick, black lashes Resting upon her painted cheeks I wish to know the secrets she keeps. What wonders does her tongue possess? What stories could those lips tell? Yet, only silence echoes off the walls. No breath left for her to speak In death, … Continue reading The Dame and The Pale Horse