Darkness

staring into the dark
only to have your own eyes
stare back
in a way that should be
but a reflection
and realizing that
you alone
are not quite as dead
as even you had imagined

staring into the dark
only to have your own eyes
stare back
in a way that should not be
a shadow
composed of moonlight
but rather
a shadow cast by the same

windows to the soul
they say
doorways to the heavens
more likely
or the hells
assuming that
primal means evil
and soul means damned spirit

I stare into that darkness every night
and I daresay
the reflection cast
is not always shadows
dancing to the tune of a moonlit sonata,
but more often a howl
prowling to the whims of a beast.

-mine

Night Time

grasping at straws
pulling myself towards
some sort of end
always reaching for something,
anything that bends
writhing in secrecy;
shadows in my head

looking at the only
sliver of silver
lining

crying tears of blood
from fingertips
staining my fears



-mine

Bite Down

bite down and tell me,
please just tell me
that my blood seeps down;
please just tell me
that the blood is red
because it feels like putty
slowly sagging out of my veins

bite down and tell me,
please just tell me
that something's in there;
please just tell me
that it's dribbling down your chin
because all I see are shadows
creeping up from your open mouth

a void,
infested with the black strings of my veins,
creeping, crawling into your now
black,
vacant,
eyes

bite down and tell me
that your after my blood,
that you need my blood;
my essence;
my being;
need it,
need to taste it

bite down and leave the shadow alone,
before it infects you,
as it always has me


-mine

Just a head's up to the "masses" following this...

I don't write the poetry for others.
I don't write the poetry for fun.
When it happens, it happens.
It hasn't.
As long as this monotonous phase in my existence continues,
the poetry won't.
No inspiration
No poetry
One pent up irritated person.
Just as irritated with myself for not writing
as I am at not having anything worth writing about.
So...there. Done.

Trademark Glow

She's lost her trademark glow;
I'm not the only one to notice,
and with her extinguished
under the soggy soil of
ambiguous animosity,
the roads darken to tar.

She was the last lantern,
the last streetlight
carving a path through the darkness
and without her trademark glow,
I develop night blindness
and a fear of dark trails.

Lost in the woods,
and if that foreshadow's not enough,
fighting under a full moon.

When was the last time I ran?
I cannot remember,
it seems to have been an eternity
since last I've slipped my skin.

To run,
to chase,
a light shone through always,
a target,
a telltale glow,

The darkness brings a strange comfort,
I hear the voice of a familiar friend.
Without light there is no reason,
no constraint,
only chaos,
and those who would take advantage thereof.

I feel the night,
heed the call...

run free under a full moon,

because there is no telltale glow to follow.

-mine

Crying for a Stillness

awaiting the executioner's blade
with a relish not often found
outside of a wolf hungering
for a fresh killed rabbit,

staying awake long enough
to see the stars transpose themselves
to the hallays and the doors,

bending to accomodate
the evacuation of bone
and of sinew,
squirming in their own
unrehearsed dance,

bowing down before time,
waiting for exposure
to an ending,

crying for a stillness.

Fire consumes skin,
that's all it's ever been good for.
It rushes down limbs
igniting flesh,
charring bone.

Spread it around.



-mine