The Revenant

It comes, and it goes.
It haunts me, and it knows.
Sneering, grinning at the agony of my defeats
It torments me, despite seeing that I’m weak.

From the countless visits,
I find its face etched into my mind,
Burned into my soul,
And imprinted on my heart.
Crooked, but blank.
Sinister in its idea, but blind I am to its truth.
It is wicked in every sense.
Black as the night,
Uncaring as the cold,
As mean as the sun,
And as frightening as death.

My body freezes up with every breath.
The chest tightens, constricts, compress.
Color fades, light leaves, and the grip consumes.
Taking me down to with the unbearable pressure.
The suffocating depths are impotent when stood aside this ghastly nightmare.
Its commands ring loud, leaving me stripped bare.

To drown tis but a luxury fate deems unfit to bestow upon me.

Uncomfortable in my own skin.
As its wretched figure hides itself within.
Reflections show only its cursed face,
And every night there is only its embrace.

Unfamiliar in my own home, my own world.
Stranger to me and to all.
The antithesis I feel I’ve become.
Twisted, warped, distorted by the ceaseless suffering.
Crippled, deprived, deranged from the sleeplessness.
Broken, forgotten, empty with the heartache.
Weakened, wounded, lost.

It creeps up and creeps in, like a parasite with an insatiable appetite.
The thorns and bramble-like hands grips what it can, and refuses release.
A bondage unlike any other.

Yet from its feeding, it finds no delight.
It is simply there to hurt and to maim.
To strike down, and keep down.
To undermine and to overtake.

Its name, and its purpose are lost and unknown.
Its origins, and its desires are mysterious and untold.
Its strength, and its influence are undeniable and boundless.
I bow to its wrath, or it makes me kneel.

Foul beast, the abysmal creature that plagues me.
I’ve grown fond of its presence,
Almost soothed by its haunting figure.
Like friends we are, it and I.
Even though as mostly dead I lie.

Advertisements

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.

Hello Me

Hello me, my closest friend.
It’s nice to talk to you again.
I like the sound of your voice.
Even though it’s the same as mine,
It’s comforting to hear the echo.
Can I hear it one more time?

Hello me, my closest friend.
Is it strange to ask for your hand?
I like the feel of your skin.
Even though it’s the same as mine,
It’s comforting to feel the warmth.
Can I feel it one more time?

Hello me, my closest friend.
It’s nice to see you again.
I like the gentle features of your face.
Even though it’s the same as mine,
It’s comforting to look at the reflection.
Can I see it one more time?

Hello me, my dearest friend.
You’re not here, and I’m alone again.
I like having you as company.
Even though you’re only me,
It’s comforting to pretend you’re someone else.
Can I meet you one more time?

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. 

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.