War

On green fields painted red, I meet you.
You are enemy of my people, my ideals, and my wellbeing.
We cross paths and cross swords.
Neither yields, neither falls.
The bodies of our brothers and sisters lay still around us in numbers too great to measure.
Who they are, who they were,
Friend, or foe…
It is impossible to know.

The faces of the dead blur together,
Erasing the stark lines that once separated them.
Now they are forever joined together in slumber eternal.
Yet we fight on.

Battered and bruised,
We are unaware of the time, and our pain.
The urge to kill what lies before our eyes consumes and overwhelms.

What we fight for means nothing.
What we seek to protect means nothing.
Only to see the other dead,
This is what we fight for,
This is why we stubbornly refuse to make amends.

What began as a clash of minds,
Soon turned to shouting,
And finally all out war.

From civilized men to the savage beasts the gods abhor.
What have we become?
What have we made?

Weariness finds us.
Blades fall, but fists still fly.
Blood hides our faces,
And blinds us to one another.
Yet the hatred guides.

Glancing strikes, and strikes returned.
A scene beyond tragedy, beyond forgiveness.
But onward we struggle,
For the other’s elusive demise we so bitterly yearned.

Night falls as do we.
A heap among our comrades and adversaries alike
Too weak to breathe, yet too tired to die,
There we lie in the mound of our sins.
When the moon shines, a gasp marks final breath.
Then we too are touched by death.

All for naught, there is nothing gained.
No reward for our beaten bodies strained.
We perish, not as heroes, but as fools.
To go so far for mere pebbles in a world of mountains.
To you, my enemy, our mistake is done.

It Breaks

It breaks when the sun goes down, and all I have are my thoughts.
It breaks when silence creeps forward and embraces me,
And realize I am not in the arms I want or the ones I need.
It breaks when the seasons change,
And another day goes by and all I feel is nothing.
It breaks when I call out, but there’s no reply.
It breaks, and sometimes I want to die.

It breaks when the sun goes down and I have is the dark around me.
It breaks when it’s cold and all I can do is shiver.
It breaks like bones under this crippling weight.
It breaks and my frail mind deteriorates.
It breaks and I lose myself, and I walk away and never look back.
It breaks, but I’m already gone.

It breaks when the sun goes down, and in my sorrows I drown.
It breaks when I don’t have that hand, and it feels like alone I stand.
It breaks like the bridge between the sun and moon,
I would like to cross it soon, but it’s just to far.
It breaks, and nothing is clear,
The mists roll in and the world begins to disappear.

It breaks like the chains in bitter ends,
And the red strings that tie knots of fate, but soon it rends.
It breaks like the soul with hope undone,
Meager spirits waste away and soon become none.
It breaks like glass, delicate and ever fragile, but admired not in ruined form.
It breaks like me in my darkest days, ever impaired by the thought of separate days.

It breaks beyond recognition and beyond repair.
It breaks like lungs in tainted air.
It breaks like the mind when left alone.
It breaks like when the hammer meets the stone.

It breaks like my heart when dreams become nightmares.
It breaks as bliss ends in fear and loathing.
It breaks like my heart when smiles form bitter glares,
That soon turn to longing, and eventually spiteful stares.
It breaks as joy ends in doubt and resentment.
It breaks like my heart in absent commitment.
It’s breaks as happiness ends in cold blood.
My heart, it breaks and I fade away.

Shadows of Tartarus

Great maw of ever-spewing blackness,
That which weighs heavily on my mind,
Countless barbed tendrils that ensnare mine soul–
A rose who’s thorns that held my heart Fixed ever in painful bind.
Great beast face me now!
Even now as my courage wanes,
Even now as my knees shake,
And hands tremble as the Earth under the march of Titans.
My spirit will know not rest until you are slain,
And cursed to wallow evermore in the Shadows of Tartarus.

Wicked creature who’s forceful roar would make a soft gust of world-rending storms,
That which tosses my insides like useless trinkets.
Endless rows of teeth gnawing down on my hind side –
a pit to hold even the giants of giants captive,
Trapped ever in hopeless misery.
Great beast come to me!
Even now as my sword arm falls,
Even now as my heart jumps apace,
And the salt of mine eyes floods the Earth!
Great beast look upon me!
Know mine anger!
My being rests not until you know pain!
Wicked cur, don thine leash and grovel evermore in the Shadows of Tartarus!

In The Eyes

It is in the eyes, that fire I see.
The scorching passion searing my soul.
It’s now burning– every part of me.

It is in the eyes, that fire I see.
The blistering emotion setting my soul aflame.
It’s all burning today– my entirety.

It is in the eyes, that fire I see.
The torrid feeling broiling my soul.
It’s just burning away– an infinity.

It is in those dreadful eyes, that fire I see.
The blazing sentiment immolating my soul.
It’s still burning– all my sanity.

It is in those hateful eyes, that inferno I see.
The wrathful mood obliterating my soul.
It’s not burning– the ashen me.

Autumn

Autumn is just a step away. 

The harsh summer sun descends, taking amber leaves besides. 

Cold comes closer, quickly taking hold of all and shaking what had become the norm. 

Unceremoniously, it claims the realm. 

Just a step before the fall. 

Lingering light begins to hide, taking modest lives besides. 

Chills creep closer, quickly clinging to everything and upturning what had become stability. 

Ungraciously, it dominates the lands. 

Sobering autumnal echoes are just around the corner. 

Gray will adorn the skies, and the lands will soon don garbs of while. 

Bleakness bitterly bites its way forward, viciously stealing entirety and confusing what had become serenity. 

Unexpectedly, it subdues the world. 

Spoiled Rotten

Tasty, tantalizing little treats laid before me. 

An appetizing box of all the signs that you absolutely adore me. 

Fatten me up with your love. 

Oh, you’re so good to me. 

You spoil me rotten, rotten to the core. 

I’m addicted to the sickening feast. 

I can feel what it does, and yet I keep craving more. 

You slay me completely with the confectionery affection. 

You keep me wrapped up tightly around your delicate candy finger. 

I can’t help but linger, enslaved by the intoxicating taste of your lips. 

It’s bittersweet. 

You’re poisoning me, and I know it. 

My body sees your deathly love as queen. 

It is yours, and as a loyal, humble servant, it refuses to overthrow it. 

My heart hurts more and more with every attack, but I am in too deep now. 

I can’t turn back. 

And I wait. 

I wait for death, the black sleep of sweet bliss to take me. 

It is my only means of escape.

To close my eyes, and let them rest from watching helplessly as you break me. 

Oh, but you’re too good to me. 

As long as you are here, I will always be. 

For what I am, there is no free. 

Broken Glass

Reflection glaring back at me,

I hate what you’ve become

An empty husk, and broken remnant of ties undone

The wrathful, pitiful, haunting specter lingering on

Wailing, and weeping for a treasure now long gone

I loathe your form, but find compassion in knowing a heart so bitterly torn

Standing over shards of broken glass,

here I am

Cut me up, and bleed me dry

No matter how much I scream and cry, here I am

Standing over the shards of broken glass, the little pieces of me

Even when my body is scattered to the wind,

here I am

Reflection of the other me, the image of no true wealth

A vision of all that I see wrong in myself

The weak soul, unable to crawl

One left wallowing, and pitying after every fall

I despise your appearance, but find sympathy in a mind so depressed

Standing over shards of broken glass,

here I am

Cut me up, and bleed me dry

No matter how much I scream and cry,

here I am

Standing over the shards of broken glass, the little pieces of me

Even when my body is scattered to the wind, here I am

Standing over shards of broken glass, the little pieces of me

Projecting a broken up, and mangled creature

A magnified depiction of every unattractive feature

Standing over shards of broken glass,

here I am

Reflection grinning back at me,

I know what you are

Desperate shade, hiding painful scars

Lacking, longing, empty spirit drifting by

Waiting, asking, begging to truly die

I abhor your presence, but find understanding in a soul left bleeding

Standing over shards of broken glass, here I am

Break me down, a bury me deep

Allow me rest, allow me sleep

Even when the maggots come,

Here I am, standing over these shards of broken glass. “

Dear You

Dear You,

I write from my heart. Deep down I hope my words reach you beyond the scattered pieces, beyond the memory torn apart. I bear you no ill will, but I am distraught. I was accustomed to a certain way of living. I was both settled and secure, only for it all to be upturned in a moment, and without a chance to catch my breath. I believed in infinity, even used to dream; perfection was a reality, or so I thought.

The naive, uneducated, unintelligent being that I once was has now been made clear. I was fooled by my own comfort. Again, I bear you no ill will, but what am I to think, what am I to feel? When left like a gutted swine, or a fish thrust upon the lands to gasp and flounder, there is only the struggle and the pain as the body tries to regain what it once lost. The heart and the mind do the same. And here I am, writing all these words in vain. I don’t mean to bear you ill will, but You, sweet Dear You, I am upset. I am bothered that there is no pause, no lost speech, no sign of regret. To simply take, and have your fill. Like a thief you’ve become, and it is from me that you decided to steal.

Dear You, I mean no harm even though my bitter words have lost their charm. I am merely expressing myself, not to You, but to me. Oh how I love the taste of the echoed resentment and venting the non-hatred that’s lingering. Would you happen to not find that just sickening? Believe me, there is not an instant where my stomach does not churn, or the very core of my soul does not burn with all its rage. Oh dear, Dear You, I hope you see the wicked creature that bears your name, and know that it is yours. It will live and grow, with or without you. Standing, breathing, and developing as the reflection of your likeness that it is. I will care for it, foster it, and nurture it in all the ways I know you never will.

My Dearest You, I do not mean Ill.

Spotlight

Spotlight upon me, shining evermore.
It is bright, warm, and awe inspiring.
But despite its glow, I shine brighter.
I am the star, the focus, center of attention.
The stage is the world, and the world is mine.
It is here where I give my greatest performance and steal the show.
I am neither arrogant, nor prideful,
But glory unto my act, and unto to me as I perform.
I perfectly maintain the facade.

I finish, but there is no applause.
No standing ovation, no congratulations, no simple gratitude.
Disturbed, but unshaken.
I have been taught and trained to maintain composure at all times.
I take my bow, but not of my own will.
I am forced down by the weight of insecurity.
The silence is sickening, disheartening, debilitating.
The spotlight remains, and I wallow in hidden agony.

Spotlight upon me, and its exaggeration of my weaknesses.
It is now the glaring microscope harshly trained on my inadequacies.
I am small, an ant under its influence, belittled by it’s taunting gleam.
Left open, and made aware of my vulnerability.
I am naked, stripped down to my most basic self.
From uplifting to scrutinizing at a moment’s notice.
What is left will make my final show,
My last appeal bask in the light,
And receive its love.
But there is none.

Spotlight fades, and darkness rules.
Thoroughly robbed of all I had.
Yet the grasp of the abyss is fleeting.
The blackness lifts as the theater lights fall.
Illumination brings clarity.
With enlightenment I can see the faces.
Everyone in the crowd is the same,
A homogeny of non-existent expression.
Blank canvases all around.
Nothing moved, nothing there.
What was once mine, now belongs to us all.
But only I know what was lost.
The isolating spotlight has lifted,
And this new light is now shared,
But I am still alone in this empty theater.

What

What is it when love is not enough to give?

After I’ve given my time, and have little enough for myself to live?
What is it when these eyes shed more than just little tears?
With the pouring oceans, representing my nightmares and fears.
What is a held hand, in the endless story of letting go?
Just a weak symbol, something as fleeting as the Spring’s snow?
What to give to when the rivers run dry?
Is it the soul? The weakening look in my eye?
Will that be enough when I draw lest breath and die?
Where do I find it?
How do I get it?
What is it, when the colossal effort is just too small?
After a tireless fight, after I gave it my all?
What is it, that thing I’ve forgotten?
That thing I’ve search for, ignoring whatever the cost?
For everything that’s slipped away, and all I’ve lost?
What isn’t, when it’s just not enough?
What is that thing when I’m filled with weakness, but pretend I’m tough?
Where do I find it?
Does it exist ?
What is when love is not enough?
What is the price? Is it too steep?
Where is that thing, the jewel I’m forbidden to touch?
How do I grab it?
How do I hide it away?
I need to know before my final day.