Ideation

Pushing myself further
against the black precipice of death
is the only thing that still makes this weary heart beat faster
in the soul-shattering absence of your love

Time

I don't see why or how you'd judge the choices that I've made,
when you aren't sinking into shores of tears and debts unpaid,
It's not your place to tell me that I've still got work to do,
When the angels of my family have come down to see this through,
How long can you ignore that somber longing in my eyes?
To melt to dew and dreams and dust and fade into the skies?
I completed all the labors that the gods had sketched in fate,
I reached for love when I was done but reached out far too late,
I don't see how or why you'd judge the choices that I've made,
Just as I can't judge the proper dose that ensures this heart stays frayed

Arachnophobia

I was never fond of spiders,
Long before I was tangled in a web of lies,
Broken down by dusk and woven up by moonlight,
Before I saw the competitive cannibalism of his friendships,
A solitary creature feasting on peers,
Before I was sized up against other prey,
Before I was saved for some later source of sustenance,
I was careful in attics and forests,
Before the venomous chelicerae grasped my neck,
Before I recoiled in fear at legs that couldn't move and a mouth that couldn't scream,
Before I watched the pieces of this body rot and spoil and burst open with maggots

The Depth

Accustomed to innate control of man,
I never knew insecurity,
until the violent fervor of my love,
jarred and recoiled off your nonplussed stare

A long five days between March 3rd and 8th

You've poisoned my hedonistic lust for sleep,
With ever-building anxiety and dread,
Thoughts of transient love I couldn't keep,
The thought of dying in this empty bed,

The years that took away my sense of wonder,
And ravaged my good looks with tired lines,
The electromagnetic rush of roaring thunder,
Loving blindly despite the warning signs,

I mistook you for a cusp against the fishes,
Hoping that inside you felt this strong,
That somewhere deep your world was made of wishes,
That time had nearly muted your sweet song,

I cannot blame your lack of understanding,
I merely wish you knew how all this felt,
The whispers of the cosmos all-comanding,
The advantage of the upper hand we're dealt,

The longing to submerge in something deeper,
This seawater love won't save a man from thirst,
You lack that empathy- you're still a heavy sleeper,
My delusions weren't for you to burst

Sick

Struggling, stumbling, searching,
searching to find the words,
words with a palpable meaning,
meaning adequate to describe this aching,
aching that compresses organs,
organs filled with acid and bile,
bile sharp and acrid from poor choices,
choices made to cope with the struggling,
struggling, stumbling, searching

Midnight Sun

The ashen sunrise from Autumnal dawn,
Arouses me to how much pain has spread,
The revelation of you being gone,
And silent wish that I was with the dead.

Desperate to quell the knife from twisting,
Agony in life that's spent alone,
Carry on this shell of life persisting,
Abusing every upturned rock and stone,

The flesh is seared and branded with your handprints,
A life you coveted and later cast aside,
Will this heart hurt less with further mends and treatments?
Or is it time to crash into the tide?

Necro-Neuro

The deliberate wash of anhedonia,
shudders in rushes between incredible pains,
of healthy vasculature shirking back under a battery acid blanket,
an arthritic swelling swirls in joints rotted with sparked synovial,
gnashing and grinding these graveyard gums,
words from witches heard in whispers- I feel them watching,
the wry wriggling of a wired-up water sign,
awaiting the anticipated accomplishment of atrial abnormalities,
A kiss even sweeter than yours'

Gears

Clockwork Soldier,
Standing tall and forged of lead and tin,
Growing older,
Paintjob running down as rust sets in,
Caring Master,
Every time he works he takes a part,
Stripping values,
To keep the pieces ticking in your heart,
Cosmic Dreamer
Clinging to paint chips, exhaust fumes, and lead,
Stauching heartache,
If I can't have you- there's this instead.

Closer

When you lean into my chest,
I smell the singeing rope around your neck,
When blue eyes hope for the best,
I see two bodies torn up from the wreck,
While you coast out toward the edge,
I hear her in the background in a rage,
When you fulfill your darkened pledge,
I taste the monster writhing in the cage

Hindrance of the Eclipse

The adder flicks its tongue,
Aiming at the fish's crown,
But expels with winded lung,
"You were better dead and down"

The crab defends with claws,
Airing out some undue strife,
"You were better when your cause,
was seeking out your end of life."

The howling winds stir up,
Strange emotions on the tide,
I cherished more your poisoned cup,
Coasting towards your suicide.

Gerda

There are Angels in Heaven and Angels in Hell,
Each with his wicked story to tell,
For the ancients are weighted with sins from long-living,
And the pain everlasting from giving and giving,

But the most devastating are the Angels on Earth,
Captive and carnal and doomed to feel mirth,
To live out their lives in woe loving others,
As a bystander shrouded by chains and by covers,

And blessed are those who are sought by these creatures,
With rings in their eyes and unusual features,
Who are given a chance to become something greater,
Blessed the harpy, blessed the satyr

The Angels on Earth who were doomed from the start,
To persish and wither from their delicate heart,
That shirks back in fear and feelings dejected,
With grievious misgivings never corrected.

Titan

I was made of smoke and ice before I chose this flesh,
I sought out men weak and nice and dug in wounds still fresh,
I brought down the moon and stars while still in virgin state,
I made love in speeding cars- searched sweaty palms for fate.

I bit down on leather straps because I won't submit,
I railed lines in squalid traps with
plans to never quit,
I drew blood with sharpened nails and dripped it down my chin,
I chewed things up but spit them out to keep this body thin.

I made the choice to leave behind
the world where I was God,
I met someone who stopped my heart
with a simple laugh and nod,
I gave my life so selflessly and
looked to them for the same,
I fell so deep in passion,
that I think I've lost the game.

Circe

Grinding down shards,
each with the capability,
to pay the debts of Hypnos,
arouse Aphrodite,
provoke Ares,
betray Selene,
and prompt Hades,
to draw forth sweet Charon

Unseemly Unseelie

I met a fallen angel with eyes of headstone gray,
with flecks of stormy blue that shows when eastern winds will bray,
she took upon her mantle a duty to save her mother's life,
a starcrossed fault,
underestimated gestalt,
the kind of girl who saves your soul but burdens with the strife

I watched this captive creature and her powers to create,
eagerly I felt her love, and fed upon her hate,
well-versed in the ancient way to enamor all her foes,
those hunger pangs,
and wicked fangs,
an empathetic journey of such volatile throes

I dreamt that all the fairies and all the hidden folk with wings,
were summonded to her court along with dark and eldritch things,
with circles of obsidian, of moonstone, and of quartz,
a sugar smile,
hidden all the while,
as she sinks a deadly knife into the enemy she thwarts

Boogeyman

Childlike fears
coming to manifest
as the real horrors
of ghosts from the past
lurking under the bed
skeletons in the closet
and monsters in the mirror

The Yearning of the Fishes

Muscles twinge,
fingers drumming across the nightstand,
unsure whether to clutch my chest or throat to-
staunch the ache of inability,
to share this human experience,
before there's nothing human left.

LC

Beware those Bad Boys Born in March,
Leave out those Ladies too,
the suicidal dreamers,
the eyes of brilliant hue,
the lust for drugs and money,
the frostbite fire touch,
the whispers of the forest,
the minds that know too much,
the mass manipulators,
the charming scented skin,
the horrors of their nightmares,
the monsters held within.
Beware those Bad Boys Born in March,
Leave out those Ladies too,
the wrath of fallen angels,
that make the old feel new

Pisces

Water sign,
with your fickle way,
the stars align,
as you examine your prey.

Wayward fishes,
with your deeper knowing,
the whispered wishes,
of a lust ever-growing,

Wicked sinners,
with your eyes set on magic,
the foolish beginners,
ready to start something tragic.

Hypnos

Shadows stretching southward, the Obelisk stands,
Head bent down averting sullen gaze,
As time wreaks havoc on the shifting sands,

Pearls and rubies pouring from his hands,
Spilling in a cream and crimson haze,
Shadows stretching southward, the Obelisk stands,

His serf stands waiting for his next  commands,
Vexed with love that only builds with days,
As time wreaks havoc on the shifting sands,

Tethered by arrythmic pulsing bands,
A hindrance for him from his heathen ways,
Shadows stretching southward, the Obelisk stands,

Wisdom imparted from traversing distant lands,
But lost and buried in these local bays,
As time wreaks havoc on the shifting sands,

The gossamer remnants of once-golden strands,
Are what this fallen demon man portrays,
Shadows stretching southward, the Obelisk stands,
As time wreaks havoc on the shifting sands.

Restless

Restless, tangled in a sheet,
refuge sought from summer heat,
bleary-eyed from lack of sleep,
and thoughts of one I couldn't keep

I fluff my pillow, rest my head,
on this expansive sea of lonely bed,
wishing you were in your space,
that sacred ground I can't replace

Black AuRA

I can make you feel the icy silence of the snow,
but rest assured a lonely night is why you want it though.

I can brush onto your skin the master painter's glow,
but once again I promise you don't really want to know.

I can taint your blood with sin as black as it'll go,
but oh my dear it's rather clear you want an ebb and flow.

I can tell a secret spell that takes away the woe,
but come the sun and when we're done I'll stunt your chance to grow.

I can trance you into dance and make you pitch and throw,
but limbs will brawl and down you'll fall when we go toe-to-toe.

With my stares I'll raise some hairs with wisdom like the crow,
but race your heart and then restart when the beats begin to slow.

With a running start I'll break your heart into pieces you can't sew,
but toll the bell to rip soul from shell and seal you down below.

Pariah

Wandering the sultry path,
Not even a year,
With thoughts as muddled
as the bleary horizon line,

How curious it is to encounter,
The King of the land I left,
Himself, a pariah.

Debridement

I gingerly slice,
into the necrotic tissue,
frostbitten by your touch,
pulling apart the eschar,
the burned bits,
ruddy with congealed blood,
down to the vasculature,
to the place that still hurts and feels pain.

Because healing goes from the inside out,
And numbness conceals a festering wound.

Freeze

You try to thaw the ice,
It's what gentlemen do,
Inadvertently perhaps,
But nonetheless true.

What you don't  understand,
Is that I've cryo-cauterized the wounds,
And with that layer gone,
I bleed right through.

Lost One

Heaven won't claim my Opium Angel,
He's a man who lost his soul,
The darkness festers in his sadness,
And he plunges in the hole,

Heaven won't claim my Opium Angel,
Though he's knocked out on the floor,
Cosmic workings covet his anguish,
He is doomed to suffer more,

Heaven won't claim my Opium Angel,
He stands waiting- gaunt and slim,
Defeat engulfs his awkward posture,
As he courses whim to whim,

I beg the stars and the Lord, Our Father,
To rid him of his sin,
To bring back the man with eyes of wonder,
Or take him home again.

Tar

Stuck,
on my fingertips,
like sap from pine,
just sweet enough,
to hesitate removal.

Predatory,
but no tropical spine or flare,
to alert a young man,
of the carcinogen-
a lingering thought.

Organs

If I poured all my blood,
into a crystal decanter,
it would still contain,
the millions of splinters,
that tear my veins like glass.

No pill nor spirit,
no metaphysical dialysis,
could remove them.

No priest nor exorcism,
could expel the poison.

Sweat

I taste you,
the bitterness-
from your flesh or your disposition,
lingers on my tongue,
unable to dissolve,
Insoluble.

It ruins the new fruit,
a Midas-like curse,
your presence.

My only solace is that I know you taste it too.

Ripped

The skin I stitched back on was crude,
A flimsy gauze pressed deep in the wound,
Where sugar-sweetness drew in the worms to chew,

My heart, pan-seared in cast iron,
Brown butter and the fat rendered through,
A familiar smell, but noticed by few,

Awakened with nails in the flesh of my throat,
Begging me to catch a breath or two,
With watery eyes I try to,

The strongest trees must sow deep roots,
The axeman comes forth sharp and true,
To undo, undo, undo,

The mask is cracked in the vermeil way,
It shows in the faintest glimmer or hue,
Seething blood and hatred of you,

A swan song would imply there was a man left,
But the savior knows that's gone too.

Bistro Woman

She sits tables down from me at the bistro, this woman.

Her harsh features jut out first. Stark black hair, pin-straight, with angular bangs drawing you to her face. Her eyes are cold blue, the piercing color of morning fog that presses against the windows before the sun has reached the horizon. Her eyelids are heavy and sunken, the kind that belong to dreamers or drug addicts. Her neckline is a strong beautiful curve that ensnares the eyes and forces them down to her slender shoulders.

Her softer features come next. A nose that broadens slightly and shale pink lips spread thinly in a smirk- her typical expression. Her dress and boots are black, fashionable but unremarkable. She's subconsciously chosen them to not divert attention from her face. A slender silver chain adorns her neck and dips down into her dress.

I imagine she works a job by day. A shopkeep in a bookshop or a florist perhaps. She lives above the shop in a dusty attic where she works on her true calling- art.

I can't say much concerning the man she is sitting with, her paramour, save for the fact that he is enraptured by her presence.

She has a simple name undoubtedly but it is irrelevant. In conversations she is often referred to as "her".

He insists they go to his place this time, but sure enough she persuades him to her raftered loft. It's a place where one never feels completely safe, perhaps she's chosen it for this reason. The odd smell of paint chipped off the walls and baked by the sun lingers in the air of the place.

A bare mattress on the floor is where they sleep and have sex. If he ever stated that they made love she would've shut him down with a shrill laugh. Sex was carnal for her, love was a spiritual feeling reserved for her and far beyond the reaches of human flesh.

Her urge to draw would come without warning, many nights he would wake to find she had moved to her easel, positioning it in the moonlight.

If whatever chaotic muse possessed her thoroughly, her art could be a days-long affair. A few crusts of bread would be the only evidence she had moved from her position at all.

Her appearance in this trance is simultaneously erotic and laughable. She wears only a flimsy pair of silk pants, nealy threadbare themselves. Her breasts are marred with charcoal dust, smudged in steaks. The corner of her mouth is mottled with ink from biting down on her markers; an unfortunate anxious tick she has developed. Her hair is a wild mess, having been pulled back when she needed focus and becoming stiff from cigarette smoke. He wouldn't dare touch her in this state of lunacy.

Her naked appearance does manage to make her more human, but never once more vulnerable. Several small stretch marks on her abdomen contrast her ghostly complexion. They validate that she's even real. There's something about her arched back that suggests malnourishment. She most assuredly was sent to bed many nights without supper; something easier for her mother to do than to admit she could not afford to feed her.

He excuses himself from the table and she grins when he is out of sight. It's the first time she's exposed her teeth. It becomes clear she takes delight in how captivated he is by her, she feels she has won some sort of game that only she is playing. Her aloof demeanor resumes when he returns.

Being both aware of her looks and the phallic nature of a cigarette lends to the attention-drawing way that she smokes.

I glance at my watch at last to find several hours have passed gazing at the woman in the bistro. I have been at her table, walked up to her attic, reached up to her frame while laying on the mattress, and seen her taken over by a creative spirit. As I fumble to put on my coat and leave, she gives me a slight smile as if to suggest that she is aware of my musings, and that they are all true.

Crystals

Everyone blamed you,
you were the termite, who,
split the ornamental burl in two,
all while ignoring that you,
ate through,
the foundation too,
no one noticed my pallor or hue,
or the blood running down to my shoe,
they gave a scoff as they bid you adieu,

If you've done this to me you've done this to a few.

Gorgon Woman

Besmirched the temple of proud Athena,
She whimpers at the ichor on her thighs,
Trauma echoes in her broken posture,
Men shall turn to stone before her eyes.

Leatherbound

I feel your presence etched across my skin,
Your venom sears a wound that always bleeds,
The price I would pay for that mad man's grin,

Reflecting on our past that's filled with sin,
Using others to meet our selfish needs,
I feel your presence etched across my skin,

Engulfed in pleasure snorted from a tin,
Sated like the way a lone wolf feeds,
The price I would pay for that mad man's grin,

I'm happy till you add that backwards spin,
That likely stems from guilt about your deeds,
I feel your presence etched across my skin,

No understanding of the thoughts that race within,
Your youth comes out in your sorrys, your outbursts, your pleads,
The price I would pay for that mad man's grin,

I hear and see your patience growing thin,
The ripple in the pond, the rustle of reeds,
I feel your presence etched across my skin,
The price I would pay for that mad man's grin.

Silent Killers

Illness,

Rushing through to strangle,

Swift,

The sounds of a withered muscle,

Feverish,

Struggling to catch a breath or make a sound,

Darkness,

Trickles forth steadily to usher in a visitor,

Death,

With not a soul around.

Celtic Cross

Above- Page of Pentacles,

Fear to grow old,

Retain youthful mystery,

Facade crack, 

Behind- The Magician Covered- The Hermit Before- Two of Swords

 Brash and Bold, Crossed A loner's road, The Lovers Feelings turn cold,

  Enraptured in fantasy, Future Abject of self-discovery, Foretold, I'm not the enemy,

Foolish hack, Awash with Turn back, bitter jealousy, Wrong track,

Truth lack,

Below- The Devil,

Something to hold,

Culminate in tragedy,

Bleak and black.

First post in years- City Walk

This reconstructed reverie, reverberates, repeatedly,

Rapid rolling energy, falls over me, intensively,

Sound and lights surround me, engulf me, eerily

Love abounds this dreary, ordinarily cold city,

Wrapped up in this synergy, this hedonistic fantasy,

Pleasures taken innocently, alter thoughts irrevocably,

Walk the streets so silently, do not disturb, tranquility,

Exerting grace effortlessly, flawlessly, impeccably,

Enticed by living dangerously, to break up the monotony,

Seed to sprout to flourished tree, nature’s potent history,

Something angels do decree, it’s heresy—blasphemy,

Catharsis truly sets you free, escape from bleak reality.

Walpurgisnacht

Tonight the moon is glowing,
To light up the Ancient Walk,
Where our ancestors are waiting,
So that we may join and talk,

A spectral wind is blowing,
Through the veil that has grown thin,
On the night of Witch's meeting,
We pass secrets to our kin,

Seeds of wisdom we are sowing,
Our new ways reflect the old,
We wait up for faeries flying,
And their queen if we our bold,

Now we enter the time of growing,
Turning the wheel around once more,
We embrace the path of aging,
Mother to Crone, to Maiden once more,

Walpurgis Night- the night of knowing,
Where we look toward the Summerland,
Beltane's eve, we all are yearning,
For the Life that guides the hand.

Axis Mundii

A sullen mountain of dusty dreams

protects your Aquarian heart

from the feel of the cold, raw earth

I'm waiting for you

at the top of the pillar-

the celestial zenith

The Axis Mundii

standing with the records of the universe

all there is, was, will be

yet,

it is merely trivial to you

your heartache takes precedence 

over the entirety of the cosmos

the Frivolity of Man

is nothing to your day-to-day

waiting

I'm at

The Axis Mundii

to you, something blue

Vishnu

a God in your eyes alone

your hopeless mortal existence

something betwixt the Earth and the Spirit.

Ivy League Lover

The sun is setting,
In that haunted place,
And the coasts of New England,
Reflect on his face,

Elegantly arrayed- eloquently conveyed,
A myriad of mystery this man has purveyed,
The frigid wind and water has brayed,
But the man of New England has ceased to fade,

Colonialism in stone and stitch,
The ancient burning of the witch,
The aching yearn- carnal twitch,
And academia as his niche,

His heart pounding, but his blood won't clot,
It reveals the signs of his secret plot,
To enamor the one he unwittingly sought,
And demonstrate the power he wrought,

The sun is rising,
On the distant shore,
And I look to the north,
Eager for more

Mediumship

The chill
morose
drumming
from the heart of Africa.
Where
Man-first saw his ghosts
refined
but not Brilliant-Cut
pounding with muffled restraints, voices
murmurs screams and whispers
Man- attuned to their wallowing
wailing pain and bloodshed


The Happy

are Soft-spoken

They find,
a Medium, who can hear them.

The Haunting

Turbulent manse,
Self-destructive beauty,
Corrupted youth's spell,
Wavers in a fish-eye lens,
We're all missing,
Some of us dead,
Ebbed away
Terror-Horror-Humor-Humanity,
Insanity,
Loving the lonely,
Trickery,
Twirling,
Only slight jabs from the past,
Lay to rest on the mantle,
Continues the climb,
Crazed


The woman is hiding behind the curtain.