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.

Distracted

Distracted

.

Abstracted from reality

Questioning my validity

Rational in obscurity

Dissipates in clarity

.

Bloodstains and powder-burns

On my pillow

Eyes

I saw the eyes of death...
You could not understand

I am lost and cast away from society

Jesus cursed barren carrion
His blood is the life
Blazing pinions lock up sweet prayers
Seraphim shudder from lugubrious minions
Fire slices dying webs
Your touch slices severed torment
A ravenous angel consumes whirling soul
Worms spin dying marrow
This torrential rain howls Oblivion
Virginal concubine desires dying torment
I met the eyes of death...
Pyres call forth severed rapture
The stench unleashes precious dreams
Death dances on embittered torment
Everything desires whirling fragments
One day I too will make life
Untainted and innocent
As masks hide dying caresses
I am a lost child

I wish only for death

I am fallen and will never rise
Wholly unloved
My only companion is the darkness

I stole the eyes of death...
Padding softly round my padded cell
You could not understand

I wear the eyes of death...

Love Story...

In this storm of hate
I still love you

.

Twisting

I am awash in blood and pain

Shattering
I await my lover's bloody kisses

Love forgotten
The blade kissed me deeply

This is your love

A deadened morass of bitterness

Love you too

You say “Don't do this, don't do that”

You say “Look at me I'm talking to you”
You say “Don't speak with food in your mouth”
You say “Don't use that tone to me”

You say “Don't ever talk back”
You say “You're just too young to know
and when you're older you'll understand”

I say

“Don’t you talk to me like that,

You’re not my ward of state

Just my biological parent

You don’t sort out my wellbeing,

Safety and comfort -

Just your own selfish desires -

You discarded me

A two hour visit each week

Gives you no rights”

Quite burnt

Waxy nub

One end worked

Twisted and ground

Tight into square hole

T’other, charred,

Broken wicked

A real effort to relight

Dig deep with knife

Prise and

Lift…

.

.

Maybe

One day

A full year, but not a leaper.

365.
Done it.

Not quite one a day produced.
But net result the same.

So, now what...

and yes, I know this site doesn't have 365, but I started back in the {Minion} days...
I shall redo my Demon pages.

So, no poem today, if they're poems that is.
Possibly no poems for a while.

Feel free to offer suggestions as to what I might do next.

Sooner or Later

And so, knife descends

Kind and loving words

That held its fall at apogee

Finally turning stale in deaf ears

Massive gash hacked through inner thigh

Tang of steel and blood a final kiss goodbye

A fuck you to a world

That hasn’t noticed and doesn’t care

And wasn’t listening anyway

Pain of living is done

Passed on to family and friend

Knife

Take that knife

Plunge it deep

Twist and pull

.

Twist and pull

Watch blood well

Flow and bubble

.

See that knife

Stained to hilt

Plunge it deep

.

Plunge it deep

Again and again

Again and again

Request

If a knife is not your gift
Or poisoned cup ours to share
Then I ask a small boon
A compromise if you please
Give me dreamless sleep
So I may practise death