Gothika, or rather more of that banal tripe...
Misunderstood,
Intoxicated by pounding blood,
My anguish spins scarlet psychosis,
Your heart desires no more.
How could I not understand?
The light for which you lust,
Flared once, then, died.
Swallowed by an abyss,
In which,
All hope must surely perish.
Offer your love no more.
How could I not understand?
We have lost our light.
My dread grows
As the dagger of your words
Falls against my naked soul.
It mutilates me,
And darkly my vitae drip
To broken ground.
In numbness I call your name
While oblivion surrounds me.
Now alone,
My essence falls from darkened eyes.
16 comments:
I should have raped the thesaurus, but ennui set in...
Need something new :(
Teenage angst when you're touching 40... well, it's really a bit lame.
So maybe the Goth is dead, long live the ??? (hopefully not too long lived...hmm, so some goth remains...)
I don't even have the urge to suicide, too apathetic.
Wonder if I can still do depressed?
Watch this space.
both of you! lol.
Haunting words ..
The Goth is never dead is it? Lucretia is still alive and well.
Think painted spider webs on cheeks. Think Hole in the Wall (not wine bar). Think the pit alive and well. Black dresses and blood and splashes. It's all still alive and well inside.
Never feel sad, dear friend. It's all so useless isn't it? I wonder why we do survival. I wonder why we wander the streets. I wonder why we sing 'Marianne' and then sometimes I see the goodness. It flashes on always. Keeping us going.
Take care dear Inc. Keep looking for the lights. The darkness can sometimes be nice in a funny kind of way too.
Banal? I think not.
Your darkness is pure light in words.
Sometimes I write in the strangest places.
Two days ago, I was sitting on the floor in a corner. I was surrounded by paper and little pieces of dolls cut out so carefully. I took dolls and made them dance in rows. I thought that the holding hands were so tight. You couldn't let them go even if you tried.
I wanted to hold onto papery hands and sometimes I called into the night looking and saying,
'Where are the papery hands, where are they? They never really let go.'
And when I saw those blank faces. I thought of all the expressions I could draw there. Red, beautiful hair. I could make the dolls speak to each other.
'You are beautiful. You look so lovely with your red hair.'
And they would answer,
'Yes, hold on, hold on. Hold on to my hand. I'll never let go.'
Sometimes the paper dolls smile and sometimes we paint on tears. But you know, they are friends always.
Gothic is alive and healthy my friend!
ON THESE WORDS!
FIXE!
Can i take the words of "Distracted" and make a sculpture?
They give me inspiration for my next work.
I`m working and is ready for september.
lol!
September - a colective art exhibition with 18 artists better than me.
Place - a gothic monastery.
Man i need inspiration!
and i found on these words.
Thanks!
Fixe
You do darkness so well inc. I wouldn't have thought Goths had cornered the market. And even teen angst has a clarity/confusion paradox worthy of attention. Best paradox is the regard from your readers, including this one, that your darkness prompts. :-)
dear in...as always a master of words....everybody can do depresed well...;)
Keep safe my friend...
hugz:)
Miss your posts inc. Did you get an email?
Waiting for next poem..
ha ha! i thought your last comment on my blog was most cheerful for you! come on...i can hear the corners of your mouth crack into a smile..?
sorry for shite contact of late, been busy bla bla. hope you're ok!
this is so damn good!
errr good is not the right word
this is damn brilliant ... simply awesome
three cheers for you
alok
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